


Cold

by Wishinguwerehere33



Category: Orange is the New Black, carol denning - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 01:07:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishinguwerehere33/pseuds/Wishinguwerehere33
Summary: A new inmate arrives at Litchfield prison, only to run into an important character from her past...





	1. Winter

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic ever so be kind!!! I am just in love with Carol. Hope someone enjoys :)

My mind feels so absolutely empty of emotion. The light coming in through the van window feels way too bright and I have to squint my eyes. The metal cuffs around my wrists are fucking freezing and they are digging into my skin to the point where I feel surprised when I squint down at them and don’t see blood dripping down through hands. The image is so clear in my mind I can convince myself I can actually feel it, sticky, thick, warm - causing steam to rise of my freezing hands. The bright orange jumpsuit they dressed me in doesn’t do anything to diminish the cold. Fucking prison. I told myself I would never end up back in one of these shit-holes. Prison is fucking cold.  
Maybe Litchfield will be different...Ha! No way am I expecting this grey concrete building to present me with anything other than abuse, mystery and gloom. Argh how pessimistic am I? My feelings have always seemed to mirror the weather though, and the cold grey winter has made its mark. Maybe that's why prison sucks. No weather in prison, no emotion in prison. 

The bus stops inside a wire fence that surrounds the outside of the prison blocks. Fuck. Guards slide the van door open, dragging the 10 other orange-clad inmates around me outside. How in hell did they cram 11 of us into this van? I am sitting so far to the back of the van that if I hunch over maybe they wouldn’t see me in the shadowy corner. No such luck - a skinny, pasty guard leans into the vehicle and thrusts out a strangely arm towards me. I could overpower him so easily, break his wrist, pull him towards me and snap his stubbly neck - just for fun cause where the hell am I gonna run? When he grabs my hands and pulls me out of the van the cuffs just dig further into my arms and he has no fucking idea how close he is to death.  
But I didn’t do it. I hold still as he dragged my towards Litchfield max facility. For a second my stomach drops and I feel sick cause I almost didn't realize that I had actually given up, that the justice system had finally screwed me over so hard that I can’t see any point in fighting back. Fuck that. Heat trails down the side of my face and I have to wipe my face across my shoulder cause no way I am freaking crying when I walk into prison.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
I hate every inch of this stupid orange-jumpsuit. Who the hell thought ‘OMG guess what would make prison so better - if all the newbies wore bright fluorescent outfits so that everyone knows how vulnerable and outcast they are”? Obviously no-one who was ever actually locked up. And it’s not even as if I haven’t been through this whole system before. I was the goddamn Queen the first time I was locked up, and now this goddamn jumpsuit catapults 7 years of hard work straight out the window. HA…. I feel something ...Anger. I am so fucking angry. I have to consciously make an effort to unclench my jaw for the first time in about an hour. 

“This way inmate”

A bald guard with dark thick eyebrows grabs my arm and leads my through the prison with four other new arrivals. His shirt reads G.Hellman. He seems confident and self-righteous. I would bet my left arm that he is bringing stuff in from the outside - not phones or sweets or any of that wannabe tough guard crap, either drugs or weapons. 

“Your all allocated to D-block”. Hellman smirks and he has an evil spark in his eye. “Good fucking luck. Not that I care in the slightest” I hate him already. 

We reach D block and are assigned to cells. My room-mate isn’t there when I arrive but I hate her already too.  
Her stuff is scattered all over her top-bunk and on one wall she has plastered some pink boy-band poster. Hellman leaves without glancing my way. He is way more interested in another of the new arrivals - a model-looking 20 year old I’m guessing, who still needs to be assigned a bed. Her life in here is gonna suck if she has attracted the attention of Hellman this quickly. I bet she won’t last a month. I shove my roommates junk onto the bottom bunk and place my stuff on the top. 

I wonder outside to the main ‘rec’ area and take a seat in the corner of the room. I need time to scan the D-block scene before those in ‘D-block power’ size me up. Honestly, the first thing I notice is the number of junkies - the place is practically swarming with them. Good. I like junkies. They are easy to manipulate. My eyes scan the room; nothing outstanding about it - a couple of older women reading magazines at the far end of the room, a junkie hunched over in a corner, three attractive blonde gossiping at one table, a junkie peering over them much to their dislike, A small girl with short, dark, blond-streaked hair girl hovering near one of the guards, a stray junkie wandering around looking dazed. The short haired girl inconspicuously chatting up the guard is interesting though - you don’t inconspicuously chat up a guard unless you're paying them to bring shit in for you. I focus my attention on the girl, who hovers next to the guard for another minute or so before moving off to sit at one of the larger tables in the room. Waiting. So I wait too. After about 20 minutes I hear laughter coming down one of the halls leading into D-block and another guard unlocks the barred door to let a group of about nine girls through into the room - who make a beeline to the table where the short haired girl sits. I am guessing they are the leaders of D-block block then, but honestly I was expecting more cause half of them are obviously junkies. The dealers are meant to sell the drugs not do them, but whatever. My eyes scan over each member of the group, analyzing them one by one, trying to determine their place within the hierarchy to the best of my ability. One of them stumps me however. Something about her looks so fucking familiar. And then she catches my eye and she squints at me, holding my gaze for a few seconds too long, before she looks away and goes back to talking to her group. I think it is her group - I think she’s the leader. I stand up and make my way the few steps to my room. That was fucking creepy and I swear to god know her.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

“What the fuck are you doing up there that's my freaking bunk”, my roommate enters the cell and looks up at me lying on the top bunk, “did you seriously just move my stuff, what the hell?” 

She has long blond hair that she obviously washes way too much. And she has nice nails. I decide that she is a prissy wannabe who accidentally killed her best friend in a cat fight, did a shitty job covering it up and now is trying to act tough because finally she is no longer the newbie. 

I don’t feel like doing this right now. I just arrived in fucking prison and I am tired and I cannot deal with other peoples shit. So I jump down and pull out a toothbrush shiv that I found under her mattress earlier that day. I don’t have the energy to talk to her so I just stare, with the shiv pointed at her throat. She tries to stare me down for about a minute but she gives up before me and looks at the ground in defeat. Of course she did - she owns a pink girl band poster and hides her shiv under her fucking mattress. 

I spin around to jump back into my bunk before speaking in her general direction. 

“I am taking the shiv”.

And that better be all the fucking dialogue we share because there is no way I am going to converse with someone who hides their shiv under their mattress.  
I make a mental note to make my own weapon cause this one sucks.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The group who runs D-block sizes up the new-inmates one by one but I managed to evade them for a day. The longer I have to observe this new crowd before I am confronted by their ‘leaders’ the better, and the one who was staring at my yesterday fucking spooked me out and I am still sure that I should know who she is. So I speak to no-one, listen to no-one and avoid everyone. Right now I’m Crouching in the corner of my cell on the wall closest to the entrance so that, to anyone who casually glances in, the room would seem empty. I pull at a couple of blond strands from the twist that I tie my hair up into every morning and fiddle with them. 

“Yard time inmates. Move your ungrateful asses or we can do it for you”

Shoot. Maybe if I just sit here they won't notice and then I’d have the whole block to myself for an hour. I’m betting they tick our names off or something as we leave the building, and being dragged out in front of everyone would likely attract unwanted attention. So I get up and walk outside my block, losing myself in the midst of the group women swarming towards the door in a rush to gain some fresh air. I’m betting its fucking freezing outside though. A large red head guard marches us down the hallway that leads to the small concreted space called the ‘yard’ and unlocks the door, releasing us women outside.  
It does feel nice to breath air that doesn’t taste like fifty or so full grown women’s sweat, tears and barf. Before long a ball is brought out and a couple of the girls start passing it back and forth. Groups of women stand round together looking exclusive and brooding, while one or two slightly crazed girls stumble round each group - no doubt taking the opportunity to find a cheap dealer. Maybe if I press against a wall close to a guard I can avoid human contact for the next hour before we are all marched back inside and I can curl up in my corner again. But then I’m grabbed roughly by the shoulder and turn around to see a skinny blond girl with hollowed cheekbones and sunken eyes staring at me hungrily. 

“Your in luck newbie, someone wants to see you”.

She says it in a tone that clearly indicates that I am not lucky in the slightest. I could grab her skinny wrist that still digs into my shoulder and sprain it, but the guards would notice, and when I look around the yard the group of girls that I identified yesterday as the group that runs D-block are standing in a corner all staring at me. I am outnumbered. So I follow the skinny hollowed out blond. When we reach the group, they part to reveal that familiar women standing within their midst. And I know that I should know exactly who she is but I still can’t place it. She stares at me in the same way she did yesterday, eyes squinting, chin jutted out which pronounces her horse-shaped face. And then she laughs and begins to speak. And fuck. I know who it is. Barbara Denning is fucking squinting at me.

“You know, I caught you staring at me yesterday and I was just about to come over and teach you a lesson because no newbie gets to fucking stare at me. But something about you had me confused cause I swear I’d seen you before.”  
The glint in her eyes tells me she knows who I am.  
“So I asked around a bit and fuck, I must have done something really good cause god has decided to reward me. I caught fucking Cassidy Edevane.”

She knows who I am. I try to back out of the group but they have closed up behind me. Of course it is fucking Barb - her face has aged 30 odd years but she sounds exactly the same as she did in high school. How in hell is she still locked up? I do some rushed math in my head - she should have been out for at least a few years now. 

“God I am going to have so much fun with you. I haven’t had anything on Carol for so goddamn long.”

Barb continues to sneer at me, I am guessing talking about whatever fucked up shit she is going to do next but I can’t hear any words, or the jeers and hyena laughs that her lackeys are making, or the sound of a ball being passed round the other girls outside, or anything. Because she just said Carol. Carol is still in prison.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………


	2. Shivved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy struggles with the newfound realization that she is in prison with the Denning sisters. Barb introduces Cassidy to Carol... In a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins just after the last chapter - Cassidy is still being confronted by Barb and her group in the yard.

Barb and her lackeys shove me around a bit and jeer which I find kind of annoying cause they don’t even know why - they have no idea about my past with the Denning family. I feel too numb to try and retaliate cause Carol is still in prison and I have no idea what to feel. Barb just smirks at me until the guards pull us apart and force us to line back up to go inside. I think some of the girls are angry cause they didn’t get their full hour outside. 

I make my way to my room, jump up to my top-bunk and lie there. And I am not going to move. Fuck dinner - I don’t think I could stomach food anyway. I have made such an effort over the years to not think about Carol, it has become a habit to think of the few years I spent with her in high school as a day dream that I don’t have time for anymore. So I put her out of my mind. Except for one day a few years back which marked 25 years after she was put in prison. The day she was meant to be released. I had been happy, I hated that Carol had been locked up - especially after I experienced prison myself for the first time. Carol had been so free and full of life and passionate when she was happy. And I had wanted so badly to go find her after that day but I also wanted her to have a fresh start. But Carol was still here. Of course she fucking was - no-one in max only stays in here for the time they were originally charged with. The prison system is screwed up and we always take the fall for all the shit that the guards pull.  
I don’t think I want to see her. Everything is too real now and I don’t want to realize that she has moved on with her life, that prison has changed her and be introduced to all the prison lackey’s she has fucked to get what she wants. Maybe she has even formed an emotional attachment to one of them. Maybe she has a girlfriend. Would I even care? I’m not sure if I still even like Carol in that way. No denying that I care for her and I liked the idea of her being free and out of prison, but maybe the fact that I didn’t try and find her when I thought she was released was because I didn’t have those feelings for her anymore. 

When my bunk-mate gets back from dinner she glares at me until I met her eyes and she averts her gaze towards the floor. She is the only thing that I have under control at the moment. I don’t even notice when the lights go out but I lie there for hours before I am able to drift off into a very interrupted sleep. What is Barb going to do with me? And am I going to let her do it? The only way I can think to avoid Carol is either to request a transfer, or overdose and never wake up. But I don’t do drugs and I don’t know who to get them from yet anyway. I might try and request a transfer in the morning, assuming I can do anything from now on without being monitored. I unclench my jaw for the first time since Barb said the word “Carol” in the yard. It aches.  
There are way more emotions in prison than I expected.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“GET THE FUCK UP INMATE, TIME TO EAT”

Hellman is shouting at me. Is it already morning? I must have had about an hour of sleep all up - my eyes are groggy and my head hurts like hell. My room-mate is not here anymore. The blur that is Hellman strides towards me and pulls me down from my bunk, hitting my chin on the edge on the way down. 

“If your not changed and out of your cell within the next 30 seconds there will be hell to pay,'' he says before striding out. 

I strip off my grey nightgown thing and pull on my jumpsuit. I can taste blood in my mouth, fucking Hellman. I have to take three deep breaths before I leave my cell because no way am I falling down the stairs if everyones already eating. When I make my way down towards breakfast I can see Barb and her group sitting at the far end of the room. They haven’t seen me yet. No one is paying attention to me. Good. I sit at a table as far away from Barb and her group as possible. How did I not recognize her? I thought I was better than that. I guess I never saw a huge amount of Barb in high school - I knew who she was, she knew who I was. Obviously she paid more attention to me back then than I thought if she can recognise me now, not that my looks have really changed much. But I only could have been 17 last time she saw me. I really want to get out of here. I put my head in between my hands but stop a few seconds later when I realize I have started rocking back and forth, which might look psycho enough to attract the attention of a guard. So I just stare at my hands until some of the women eating finish up and start to move off. 

Finally I can make my way back to my cell. Except I think someone is following me. I walk past a plastic screen window and I can make out the reflection of the hollowed girl from yesterday. If I go to my room I could be cornered. I take a random turn somewhere and speed walk for a few seconds until I figure she must have turned the corner too at which time I slow down again. And then she starts running towards me. So I run too. But then another girl, a huge muscled one, appears from around a corner. And I’m stuck in a hall on the way to the shower between two of Barbs lackeys. Shit. I could pull out my shiv but the likelihood is that they have backup nearby and I would lose it. Plus the big girl has a shiv out which looks a bit sharper than mine. My fucking roommate made a terrible shiv. 

“Look I don’t want any fuss. I haven’t seen Carol for years, tell Barb she probably won’t even remember me. I’m not worth the trouble.”

“Hey look the mouse has a voice”. The bigger girl’s voice is really grating. She walks towards me with a stupid grin on her face that shows off her rotting teeth. “Come with usssssss pleeeeeease”. Shes mocking me. She doesn’t scare me because I’ve taken out guys way bigger than her. But I usually had a gun. And she can do a lot of damage by just randomly slashing her weapon - assuming she doesn’t know how to use it properly - so I let her lead me through the corridor. By the time we make it to where Barb stands waiting we have been joined by about 2 other girls. Now there are six of us including me and Barb. Barb looks so happy and all I want to do is smash that perverted smile off her face. 

“Hey Cassidy! Thanks for stopping by. Carol books out the salon pretty much every Thursday. She’s always been a vain narcissistic bitch. But I thought I should show her what I found!!”

Fuck. I really don’t want to see Carol. 

“Fuck you Barb”. And then I punch the big girl who has hold of my wrist. Barb looks stunned and I have to suppress a smirk. I turn around to twist the arm of another of Barb’s girls behind her back and she lets out a muffled scream. It’s about to snap when something hits me across the back. 

“What the actual fuck”. One of Barbs lackey's stands over me holding a plastic pipe which I am guessing is what collided with my back. She wipes her brow. Maybe I deserved that - I should have seen that coming. 

Barb looks pissed. “Come on - let’s get out of here before one of the guards come running. Get rid of that pipe and bring her,” she nods in my direction before she spits out “you know I thought I could lord you over Carol for a while but your not worth trouble...Imagine how pissed off she's gonna be if I just kill you now before she gets to say hi.”

We make our way out of this coriander and head towards another. Barb nods at one of the guards overseeing the ‘rec’ area who makes his way over to us. He leads us through a part of the prison that I haven’t seen yet. At some point we turn off and head towards a room, and as we get closer I can make out one end of the room through the barred door that separates us from it. I can see a few shelves which are supporting hair products and a couple of brushes. The salon. Carol must be in there. I haven’t been this close to Carol in 29 years. I tell myself that I don’t care - I haven’t spoken to her in half a lifetime, she was a high-school crush, she will have found someone else. But it’s Carol Denning. 

The is another guard - a pale ranga with glasses who looks kind of simple - standing outside the barred door that separates us and Carol. He nods at the guard who lead us here who leaves. Is he seriously leaving one guard alone with two groups of seriously dangerous criminals on either side of a single door? Barb must have more power than I thought if she can convince the guards to leave her alone in reach of her sister. Barb motions towards her lackeys to start moving towards me. And I know that I can either let them beat the crap out of me, or fight back and break their necks. I don’t know what to do. Barb glances towards the salon door and yells.

“HEY CAROL.” 

And now I have only a split few seconds to make up my mind. I choose to let them do it. Once I make this decision everything happens at once. The big girls makes a dash at the red-head guard who makes an attempt to yell into his radio before she smashes an elbow into the side of his head, I think knocking him unconscious. Then the rest of Barbs girls are on top of me - scratching, punching and I think I am just letting it happen but I can’t tell if I am fighting back because the emotion of everything has become way too much to deal with. Everyone is yelling and screaming. I think I let out a cry when I feel my first rib crack and I fall to the floor. Now they are kicking me and pulling my hair. I can feel their scratches digging into my flesh and dragging it downward. I feel real blood running down my arm. Each kick adds weight to my chest. I think the big girl must have found the guards keys from his belt and unlocked the door to the salon because there seem to be more people crowding around me.  
And then added to the weight of the kicks and the dragging ache of the nails in my flesh I feel a sharp hot pain in my side. Then It feels like a cold wind is rushing into my stomach. Fuck I think someone shived me. Again and again. And each time I scream because this pain brings me back to reality and suddenly all my senses sharpen. Except my sight. Everything is blurring together. Is the warm on my face blood or tears?

“What the fuck is this Barb, who is this?”

I think that was Carol. Her voice sounds deeper but I might be wrong because everything is so loud. I begin to hear shouting of guards over the commotion of the girls beating me, watching me and yelling. Guard blurs pour into the small space and the group of girls hacking at my body are pulled away. From within the blurred commotion a smaller blur kneels before me. 

“Oh My God. Edevane? Is it Cass? Holy Fucking Shit.”

That blur must be Carol. Carol recognizes me. I try to force my vision to clear and I can make out her glasses and her very blue eyes. I think the look in them is worry but I might just be hoping. She is pulled away by a guard. And I am lifted up by someone which hurts so fucking much. I scream and scream and scream because god someone just opened my stomach with a shiv.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading. I am working on the next chapter now which I think will be a flashback to Carol and Cassidy in high-school to provide a little more context. Let me know if there is anything I can do to improve/make this more interesting. Would love to hear what you think ;)
> 
> xxx


	3. Stolen Booze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to Carol and Cassidy in high-school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this shorter chapter provides a little more context...

“CASS hurry up” 

Carol can run like the wind when she wants to and Jesus she seems to want to. Considering the fact that she's stashed a few bottles of alcohol from work in her bag that may not fare well when exposed to her rapid, leaping movement I think that I should be the one yelling at her to slow down.

“Carol you're going to fizz up the booze!!!!!”

“Shit”

The dark shadowy figure stops a few paces in front of me and starts walking. I have to run for a few seconds to catch up to her and then we walk in silence. We both try to catch our breath which takes longer than normal as we’re trying to cover up the fact that we are breathing heavily. I can almost feel the weighty breaths that she is trying to suppress.

“You could have pointed that out earlier. Booze isn’t cheap.”

“Bullshit Carol, I know you stole it.” 

“Bulltrue - this could have cost me my fucking job if I had been caught. You have no idea what I risk for you.”

I have to laugh at the sarcastic sincerity of her reply. Carol is cute in a dark and cheeky way. We walk in silence for the rest of our journey to the park. I love that about Carol - when we talk it can be fun or exciting or meaningful, but when we are quiet it feels just as special. She is the first person I have ever known that understands that value of spending silence together. When we arrive at the park Carol starts skipping, as she always does when she is excited. We climb up the ladder of the playground centered in the middle of the park, and onto the highest platform of the structure to lean against one of its side walls. Carol gets out two bottles of whiskey. She must have diluted it a bit otherwise I am not going to be able to haul my ass out of bed tomorrow morning. 

“One for you and one for me.” She hands one of the bottles to me and adds with a concerned look, “maybe open it carefully.”

“Ohhh the good stuff huh?” Carol frequently nicks a bottle of some form of booze from the back of the diner she works at but whiskey is rare. It’s usually just cheap beer. 

“Just for you baby girl, but take it slow. Besides, it’s your birthday tomorrow and I might not get to see you if you end up going on that stupid English trip.” 

I place a kiss on Carols cheek and she grimaces, but I can see the smile under her frown. I pull my coat further around my shoulders - the weather is starting to feel more summerish but its still not toasty warm outside at 11 o'clock at night. The booze will warm me up soon though. I slump against Carol and place my head on her shoulder. To my surprise she responds by resting her head on top of mine. 

“And it’s not a stupid English trip. It’s actually really interesting - we’re going to listen to a poet speak whose published over 50 pieces. Apparently a lot of his work is written from a child's perspective on life and death.” I can feel Carol’s shoulders shaking against my side but I continue anyway, “Which is ingenious because poets often take their work so seriously that nearly all poetry is openly morbid and depressing. But this guys stuff is portraying dark ideas through the innocence of a child.”

Carol turns her head to face me, “so it’s less creepy when a little kid ponders death than when it’s just straight up addressed by an adult who actually knows what their talking about?” She’s smirking at me.

“Well no - it is more creepy, but on a surface level it doesn’t appear that way... Shut up Carol poetry it’s a beautiful way of expressing yourself. With poets can do without getting drunk on stolen booze.”

Carol just laughs at me and flops down on her back. She usually has an abundance of playfully snarky comments to make about my love of literature. I think there’s shit going on at home - more than normal that is. Her mood swings have started becoming more frequent and intense since Debbie won some big competition at a gym meet a few weeks ago. Whenever I ask her about it though she blows up in my face so I’m trying to keep it to myself. It’s difficult to feel her internal struggle and not be able to do anything about it. I look down at her lying beside me. She looks more peaceful than she has all week. She looks amazing - hair splayed out, glasses sliding up he face, the whispers of a frown still permanently marking her face. I can start to feel the warmth of the alcohol spreading through my body so I shrug off my coat and inch down to lie beside her.  
We lie in silence a few more minutes until Carol sharply rolls over onto her side to face me, grinning. 

“So I got you something.” She looks at me expectantly for a few seconds until giving an exasperated sigh. “For your birthday idiot.”

“Ohhh shit. Really? I thought that was what the booze was for.”

“Nah I got something better…” Carol rummages around in her bag for a second before pulling out a rectangle object. “I didn’t have time to wrap it or anything.” She hesitates for a couple of seconds and then sticks her hand out towards me. She’s holding a seriously old and tattered copy of Oliver Twist.

“Holly crap Carol this freaking amazing. Where did you find it?”

“The library.” She sounds triumphant - she has found my favorite book.

I look at her skeptically - “So do I have to return it at some point or…” 

Carol whacks at me with the back of her hand, “No I’m not that unthoughtful. That dodgy old librarian that they hired a couple of weeks ago took an interest in the stuff I deal… So I traded him.” She gestures towards the book, “its from that restricted section with all the old original books in it. And before you get pissed off at me for buying you a book with weed, I would have made a shit-ton of money with the amount that I traded him for - so it actually cost, like, heaps.”

“Oh my God I can’t believe you used your dodgy drug contacts to get me a birthday present. How Carol of you.” She blows me a dramatic kiss and I giggle. “Thank you Carol. I love it.”

She looks so happy with herself. I lean in a press my lips to hers as she places her hand on the side of my neck, pulling me closer. She bites my lower lip and I can feel her smile at my resulting moan. My eyelids flutter as she deepens the kiss - she tastes like alcohol, artificial sweetener and smoke. I drag my teeth across her lower lip and she opens her mouth for a fraction of a second before she stops. I let out another small growl as she pulls back slightly to stare at me. 

“Please sir, may I have some more?” She lets out an amused snort at my request, placing a kiss on my check before relaxing back down onto her back. As unsettled as I am that she we only made out for a max of 30 seconds, I am pleased that she actually understood my Oliver Twist pun. 

I shimmy over as close to her body as I can get and thumb through my new book. Half way through a small piece of paper falls out onto my face. It’s a drawing of me pulling the finger and winking. Carol must have sketched it. Its beautiful - as beautiful as the memory of me when I had pulled my finger at Carols sister Barb as she waltzed down the corridor at school, surrounded by her drooling fan-girls. I had gotten sent to the principal's office and then I had to sit in my math class for an hour after school with detention but it must of meant something to Carol if she decided to draw the moment.

“When we’re older and out of high school, I’ll write novels and you can illustrate them. Together we could become so fuckin famous - like Charles Dickens famous.”  
Carol huffed bemusedly and turned her head to look in my direction. “More likely I will end up an old wrinkled art teacher and you will end up an old wrinkled Lit teacher in fucking high-school.” 

“Geez Carol - where’s your sense of ambition. We could so do great things together.”

“Oh baby I have heaps of ambition and I will illustrate all your ingenious books. But no one like us ever actually succeeds. We’ll end up an old English teacher and an old art teacher trying to tutor a bunch of ungrateful little shits no matter how much ‘vaulting ambition’ I send your way”

“How insightful of you.” Never say that Carol Denning is not an optimist. 

She reaches over and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Happy 17th Cass. Your catching up to me.”

“That's not how age works sweet. I will always be five months behind you.”

“Always is a very strong work baby girl. Be careful.”

I roll onto my side and tuck my face into the curve of her neck. Nights like this are the only time that I ever feel like I have a future. It’s a mix between the night and just being with Carol. The darkness and quiet of night makes it feel like time isn’t moving and I can finally just think and plan without being rushed and controlled. And Carol just gets it - she is the only person that doesn’t expect me to fit into a perfectly cut piece of the puzzle. Like at school; all the blond girls are sluts, all the smart girls are rich, all the flunking girls and on drugs, and everyone who doesn’t fit the stereotype is confusingly scary and people don’t want to socialize with them. Well fuck them. Carol mumbles something but I miss it cause I am too caught up in the sudden feeling of the vibrations in her throat when she talks. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I love you.” 

That’s the first time she has ever said that. And I can’t make a big fuss because, while I believe that Carol is a truly deep person, she is scared by heavy emotions. So I just smile against her neck, and hope that she can feel my heart soar through the fabric of her jumper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was nice to finally write Carol and Cassidy together!!! Let me know what you thought ;)


	4. Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass is assigned to a new block... Carol is now a little close for comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters a bit longer but I hope you enjoy. Back to present day prison.

I wake up feeling disoriented and immediately panic cause its so hot. I think my flesh is burning. There must be a fire. I try to get up but my hands are tied down and every-time my core constricts it feels like the devil has latched into my stomach with its teeth and is pulling out my flesh. I need to get someone's attention so that they can help untie me cause otherwise I think I might burn. Burning to death will not be how I die. I start screaming and thrashing around even though the movement tears my insides. 

I hear someone swear and run over to me. I can only make out a blurred figure through the tears or smoke or blindfold or whatever else it is that covers my eyes. There are beeping sounds and hands pushing me down and the ropes around my wrist get tighter. They want me to burn. Everything gets hazy and slow and I feel myself losing consciousness.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The second time I wake up my mind is so much clearer. Everything still burns but not as hot as before. This time I can actually clear my eyes after blinking rapidly for a few seconds, and a white room full of metal beds come into view. I remember Barb motioning towards her group of girls. I remember them closing in on me and deciding to let it play out. I remember the feeling of boiling water and cold air rushing through my stomach each time they shivved me. Motherfuckers. So then this must be medical.  
And I remember a blurred figure kneeling beside me just before everyone was dragged away. Fuck. The memory comes with such a shock that I feel like I this is the second time someone has broken it to me - that I am in prison with Carol, who is not free.  
I am finally starting to sift through my memories of the last few days in order to make sense of everything that has happened, when one of the medics in their blue getup and plastic gloves walks over muttering something about how I probably shouldn’t be conscious yet and he has other stuff to deal with now anyway. He sticks something in my arm and I can feel myself starting to slip away again. 

“MOTHER FUCKER WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT” 

He frowns and starts walking away.

“TAKE IT BACK!! TAKE IT BACK!!! Take it fucking back…”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The third and fourth times I wake up I try to stay quiet so that I can just have my thoughts to myself but each time he notices that I am conscious he walks over, sticks a needle in my arm and puts me back under.  
No matter how much I scream or what I say.

The fifth time I don’t resist. I am getting so tired and every-time I shouted before I felt like I’d opened stitches.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The sixth time I wake up I just stare at the ceiling, waiting for him to hear the unnatural beeps of whatever machine I’m hooked up to indicate my waking state. I can’t actually hear any beeping though, and a few minutes after I become aware of this fact I see him notice my open eyes - he just looks bored and keeps doing whatever shitty doctor task he was doing before he looked up. 

I attempt to move my arms. They are still pinned to my sides but the shooting pains that I have felt previously when I have attempted to move them isn't there - just a very dull ache. The pain in my stomach is still very present buts it’s actually bearable and I think that I could sit up and move around. My vision is clear. I am not on fire anymore. I wonder how long I have been strapped to this bed? Obviously long enough for then to starve me cause I am fucking hungry. When I turn my head to the side I can see the girl next to me. She has a mane of black curly hair, red eyes and very thin eyebrows, which she raises when she sees me staring.

“Holy crap looks who's finally awake and sane… maybe.” She cackles to herself, apparently very amused by her hilarious joke. 

This is how I spend the next few days. Strapped into an uncomfortable bed in medical, being fed the occasional yogurt and staring at the ceiling, feeling the ache in my arms and the pain in my stomach becoming duller and duller. Until some female guard I haven’t seen before comes in and hands the medic a slip of paper, who walks over to me and starts to undo the straps around my arms and waist.

“Your being released back into your block. You could still do with another few days worth of meds but if you can’t find a guard to come and collect them for you then you will have to go without.”

He holds my arm as I stand but I yank it away as soon as I have my balance. Motherfucker knocked me out five times. I stand still for a few seconds until I can be sure that I will actually be able to walk after God knows how many days lying flat on my ass before following the guard, who handcuffs me, away from medical. I didn’t realize how much the place had stunk of rotting people until I got outside it. I take some time to observe the scars along my arms where I was scratched. Those girls must have had long fucking nails. The scars are jagged and untidy - unlike the clean line a knife of some other sharp edge would have made. I have about five on each arm - one or two of which stretch from my bicep to almost my wrist. I like them. They make me look tough. I feel a sick sort of anticipation for when I am left alone to inspect my stomach. I have always been OK with getting through pain cause it always makes me look harder when I come out the other side of it. 

I change into a prison uniform which is doled out to me and thank God it’s a navy blue colour - not the previous orange that marked my new arrival. I guess after being stabbed in the chest they figured I had been here long enough to figure out how the fuck things went down. It’s a good thing too - I am not going to need the added attention of an orange jumpsuit when they throw me back in with Barb and her group. She said she wanted me dead. How’s she going to handle it when I show up very much alive? But as I follow the guard we don’t turn off towards D-block. Shit - what if they decide to stick me in solitary from now on?

“Where am I going? I’m assigned to D-block.” She doesn’t respond. “HEY - we already passed D-block.” The guard turns a corner and unlocks one of those cage-like barred doors with a key from her belt.

“You’ve been transferred. Your assigned to C-block now.”

C-block. How many goddamn block does this place have?

“And how long was I in medical?”

The guard looks at me quizzically while she pulls me through the door and turns to lock it again before we move on. “You're the one they beat up outside of the salon right?” I nod. “Then about five weeks, give or take.”

Shit. That’s longer than I thought. I can start to hear the commotion and bubble of conversation as we near what I guess is C-block. I can make out the main area of the block filled with tables and groups of women hunched over, chatting or whatever. The guard unlocks yet another cage-door and leads me through.  
“Here we are. Welcome to your new home.” Her sarcastic tone pisses me off. This is literally my new home. And she doesn’t know what it’s really like in here so she can go fuck herself. But she answered my questions earlier so I will tolerate it. She unlocks my cuffs as I take in my new surroundings. I am met by a pair of bright blue eyes framed with glass. She must have been staring at my since I entered. Carol isn’t smiling. She seems to be in the middle of a card game with three other women. She's halted the game though while she looks at me, with a blank emotionless expression on her face. She holds my gaze for about five seconds, until she looks away, playing her hand as if nothing happened. As if I didn’t just walk in. Maybe I don’t mean anything to her anymore. Who knows. Maybe she doesn’t mean anything to me either. I still haven’t figured that out. 

“This way inmate. I’ll show you your bunk and then your on your own.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I spend the next few days alone. My ‘roommate’ is a silent Latino girl who never seems to leave our cell and glares at me whenever I walk in. I glare back at her, but I feel like keeping to myself so I stay outside the tiny room whenever possible. For some reason I feel more isolated when I’m sitting at one of the tables in the main block area than when I’m stuck inside the room with my cellmate. Carol is almost always playing cards with three other women. They other women that play with her vary but she is always there, She clearly runs this block - people give her a wide berth and the other, louder girls who seem to hold power within this block always report back to her - the main one of these being a short unnaturally blond bitch called ‘Badison’. I find it very fitting that the two Denning sisters run the rival blocks at Litchfield max.  
The scars on my stomach are pretty great though. 4 deep ones that are risen - which must be where I was stabbed. There are a few shadows from where by ribs were kicked in but those will fade soon. 

I’m pretty much left alone by all the girls in the block - for the most part Badison who seems to have made it her goal in life is to torment all C-block inmates, clad in orange and blue alike. I am grateful to be isolated but at the same time it makes me feel like I have a weight in my stomach that just gets gradually heavier. So much has happened and I need to vent or break something. Or blown something up. And all the time Carol is just sitting there, playing cards with the occasional end of a lollipop sticking out one side of her mouth, either totally ignoring me or not giving a fuck. And I don’t know which one I am hoping it is. At one point I accidentally shoulder Badison on the way back to my cell after dinner and she makes a big deal out of nothing. Carol had looked up from her usual spot at her table to watch. For a second I thought she was going to do something; stand up and intervene, yell at Badison or even just look me in the eye.She didn’t. I was left to deal with Badison later the next day when she confronted me - supposedly trying to establish her position in the C-block hierarchy. I twisted her wrist and told her to fuck off. She spat in my face and told me to look out for the drugs that she will undoubtedly will sneak into my bedding or shoe before the next raid. She thinks she can outsmart me. That was the first and last time another inmate talked to me for a week. 

..................................................................................................................

Nine days after initiation to C-block, I hear hurried footsteps behind me on the way back from the showers one morning. I have a brief flash of deja vu. I really can’t afford another beating yet cause my ribs, while on the most part healed, are still vulnerable to an easy break. I feel my pocket for my shiv - new and improved. I am going to fight back if whoever this is jumps me. There aren’t any guards or other inmates in sight, which is unusual. Whoever is following me must have cleared this hallway out in advance. Which means it is probably Badison coming in for a sizing each other up rematch - I'm sure she has Hellman wrapped around her little finger and could easily get him to conveniently forget to be on shower duty. I round a corner and stop, turning around to face whoever comes round after me. I won’t pull my shiv out yet but I keep my hand hovering over the pocket that I sewed into the inside of my shirt.  
Carol appears from around the corner. That stumps me. I’m frozen on the spot cause for the first time in 9 days she is staring me straight in the eyes. And they are flickering with anger. She pauses for a second before advancing in on me and within one second I've been backed up against a wall. She punches the wall on either side of me - inches away from my face. I still can’t move. She keeps her arms locked against the wall, framing my head. Her face is inches away from mine and I can feel the anger radiating off her. When she speaks, her voice is deep and huskier than I remember. 

“FUCK.” She spits out the first word with a passion. “WHAT THE FUCK EDEVANE.” She closes her eyes for a brief second before opening them again and speaking in a far quieter more dangerous tone - heat resonating in her words.

“What in God's name are you doing here. I had everything sorted. I knew exactly what I was goddamn doing. Barb hadn’t got to me in months. You think you have any right to be here? In my prison? You fucking don’t.”

I am almost scared - not yet but almost. Carol has never scared me before. Frightened, but never scared. Jesus she must be so angry.  
And then she closes the distance between us in one movement - arms still held up against the wall on either side of my face. Her lips press into mine and her body holds me hard against the wall. I haven’t kissed Carol Denning in so many years. God is feels so good. Her lips are slightly rougher than I remember yet still so soft. They begin crashing against mine and her tongue pushes past my lips, roughly exploring what lies beyond. My hands move up on their own accord to tangle with her hair and hers move from the wall to cup my cheek, my neck. For the first time in as long as I can remember I feel something gather in my lower stomach other than the dull pain of my bruises - longing and lust growing every second. Yes. I do still have very strong feelings for Carol. I bite down on her lower lip - hard - and she lets out a moan. God. 

And then she pulls back, leaving me flushed, still backed up against the wall. She looks flustered and confused. Her checks have reddened and her mouth is slightly parted, a spot of crimson beading where my teeth broke her skin. Her breaths are labored. I think mine are too but all sound feels to thick to hear. 

“Way too many emotions Cassidy. The past few days have been hell on earth, in prison. You know I lost a game of bridge yesterday. I lost 50 fucking bucks and I couldn’t even bring myself to fucking care because every-time I looked up you were sitting in the corner. And you nearly died.” Her voice almost broke. “Do you have any idea how bad you looked. Five weeks I was left here thinking you were dead. And now your not. I run this place Cass. I cannot afford to feel things.”

Her hands are back on the wall. I want to say something so badly but I don’t know what.

She continues to speak in a low growl.“You were meant to be writing novels by now - the next Charles Dickens. You were meant to be rich and living in a mansion somewhere, free.”

“I’m so sorry Carol. I couldn’t find a good illustrator.” 

I’d like to think she almost smiled. She takes a deep breath and steps back. “Jesus. OK, you have to forget this happened. I need to sort shit out.”

And then she turned around and walked off in the direction she came. I can only stand, slightly slumped against the wall. A few minutes later girls start trudging back through the corridor - as if they can feel Carols absence and know it's once again safe to take a shower. And then Hellman starts shouting at me to get a move on and somehow, I make it back to my cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit stumped as to what to write but let me know what you guys thought. Hoping that the relationship gets a bit more heated within the next few chapters.  
;)


	5. Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Untangling emotions. Carol gets impatient and takes the relationship to the next level

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so fun to write this. Hope you enjoy :)

I spend that night trying to untangle an overload of information. Carol does care, she's hurting and confused. But I’m hurting and confused too. I can rule out the possibility that my feelings for Carol have dissipated over the years. I still definitely feel strongly, and considering the events of earlier today I know she does too. Waves of emotion rush over me multiple times throughout the night - warmth at the idea of being with Carol again, anger that she doesn’t seem to realize that I have had to go through shit the past few days too, a strange empty yet warm feeling whenever I think about Carol being upset that I’m not free. The weather is stormy in prison tonight. I wonder how many times she wondered about me on the outside. Every few seconds I press my head backwards to feel the solid shape of the Oliver Twist book under my pillow.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning when I make my way outside to breakfast Carol is sitting by herself, but I can pinpoint her followers placed strategically at tables around different points of the room - all watching me. She invites me over with a nod. While I know that we need to talk - to sort things out - I decide not to establish myself as eager, and therefore walk over to receive a food tray before making my way over to her table. Her eyes narrow beneath her glasses.  
I feel slightly amused at the way we are trying to establish our positions seeing as we had managed to fall into an understanding rhythm so easily back when we were teenagers. I place my tray onto the table opposite her and slid onto the seat in front of it. 

“Hey.” There I said something. It’s now up to her. 

“Hey,” she responds, tilting her head to the side. Dammit. I stare into her eyes and she stares back, yet doesn’t let me see the emotions beneath. After a few seconds she continues. “When I first got thrown in here I was youthfully optimistic. I found you in high school, what was to stop me from finding someone again? Not a ‘girlfriend’ per say but a friend. But everyone in this place is so fucking screwed up. I was betrayed left right and center and it was the decision I made to fuck everyone over in the same way that I was fucked over that made me. That got me here.” She gestures at the girls she has placed around the room. Her puppets. 

“I wasn’t prepared to find you here. I thought you’d be out by now.” She laughs bitterly. 

“Yeah well, so did I.” Carol closes her eyes, bowing her head slightly. Her hands are clasped and lying on the table in a manner that almost makes it look as if she’s praying. That makes me smirk - Carol praying. She raises her head and stretches out her fingers. They are very long, graceful. I’ve always thought she has very gay fingers. “So when you arrived I decided not to care cause I can’t risk messing everything up. But it was so fucking difficult. Twenty five odd years later you're still goddamn gorgeous.” 

“Ahhh I see. And I’m here so you can slip glass into my food and finish off Barbs job. Cause I’m way too hot for you to deal with right now.” I struggle to keep my response lighthearted cause all I want to do is poor my heart out for this woman. But I don’t want to scare her away. To be fair she just shared some pretty deep shit with me. Maybe she could handle my emotions. Maybe I just don’t want to scare myself away.

Carols lips twitch. I want to point out that she didn’t deny it but I bite my tongue instead and wait for her to continue. “So baby girl, would you like to be my prison girlfriend?”

I decide to push it, “How about your girlfriend girlfriend?” I feel like I’m flying.

“Ohhh I don’t think you could handle that.”

I laugh for the first time in weeks. Carol finally smiles. We eat our food in silence, but it finally feels like our silence - both of us thinking and feeling but neither of us needing to express it verbally in order for the other to understand. I haven’t enjoyed silence this much in a long time. I take the opportunity to just observe her for the first time without having to look away when she catches my eye. She has changed so much. Her face has hollowed out a little and her voice is huskier that it was in high-school. She has new glasses. No shit after two and a half decades. She seems more solemn, less erratic than she did as a teenager. But she still has brilliantly blue eyes. And her lips curl into the same smirk every-time she glances at me. God I feel like a schoolgirl again.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next few hours that I spend with her are the most satisfying and nerve racking that have ticked by for as long as I can remember. We begin to fall into our old, yet slightly modified rhythm - we have both changed. I beat her at bridge and she gets pissed off. Whenever her shoulder brushes mine I feel like my stomach is on fucking fire again. But in a very, very good way. And before the guards herd us into our cells at the end of the night she pulls me into a corner - out of sight of any other inmate - and kisses me.  
That night I have flying dreams. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Cass… Cassey wake up. Jesus Cass wake your ass up…”

I wake up to Carols exasperated face staring up me over the edge of my bunk. “Jesus, fucking finally. You sleep like a goddamn rock.” I love that Carol swears like a sailor. 

“Shit Carol. I’m not a morning person. Which you know.” 

She glares at me. “Well I’ve been up all morning pulling favors. Figured you might like to shower big bitch style - undisturbed by impatient inmates. But fuck me I guess.”

My eyes open properly at this. It would be nice to actually take a long shower without the constant awareness in the back of my mind that any minute the curtain may be pulled aside to reveal the next bossy girl in line. A shower without being left with only cold water running after the 50 girls before me use everything hot.  
Carol starts to walk away. 

“OK, OK… I’m up. Hold on.”

She leans back on my cellmates bed as I gather my stuff and change. I’m very aware of her eyes on me as I pull my night shirt over my head and the brief few seconds that I stand there in only a bra and panties before pulling on my blue over-clothes. When I turn towards her, her checks have flushed slightly and she avoids looking me in the eye. Then she abruptly stands and grabs my arm, pulling my away, however removing her hand from my arm as soon as we leave my cell. She keeps a respectable distance from me until we reach the showers. I wonder if we will get to be together long enough for her to feel comfortable showing affection around the other inmates. She certainly has enough power over them to afford it. More likely prison will screw one of us over before we can get that far into any relationship.  
When we get to the showers she nods at Hellman, who is standing guard. He locks the doors behind us. I feel slightly put out by the fact that he is the guard standing outside. Carol must sense this. 

“Don’t worry. He walks off a fair way away. I don’t trust him either.” I widen my eyes in agreement.

For the first time I contemplate the fact that I will have to undress in order to take a shower. Is she going to take one too, and if so is she going to have it beside me or with me. When I look over at her she is regarding me with a bemused expression, like she knows exactly what I am thinking. Of course she does - she planned this, she always knows exactly what she is doing. I decide to throw the pressure back on her.

“Your move.”

She tilts her head to the side and walks towards me. “Are you sure princess? Cause I’ve had all night to think this through.” Before I can respond she slides her hand around my neck and pulls me forwards until her face is mere inches away from mine. And then she hesitates. I think she’s nervous. 

“Well then what are you waiting for?” I can only bring myself to whisper the words.

She closes the distance between us, her lips brushing against mine for a moment before urgently pressing into them. My lips part almost immediately because all of a sudden I feel desperate - as if we might suddenly be out of time and get forced apart. She pushes me backward until I feel the cold tile wall against my back, all the while her lips moving against mine. They feel so warm. She runs her tongue across my bottom lip before trying to push into my mouth, failing as I fight for dominance. I slid mine past her lips to taste her properly for the first time in far too long and the sugary, slightly smokey flavor that meets me feels so familiar. When she groans against my tongue I have almost have to fight the tears that threatened to spill down my checks. I have no doubt in my mind that I was always meant to be Carols. I barely notice that she has removed my shirt before it drops to the ground in a pile at my feet. 

“Take the bra off.” It’s not a request - it’s a demand. And I comply, holding back a sound of disagreement when she moves her body from mine to remove my pants. The only item of my clothing that remains are my panties. She presses back into my body and as I attempt to remove her shirt she pushes her knee up between my legs in an effort to stop me. It works. Everything starts spinning and she laughs delightedly at the sounds that her movement elicits from my throat. Carols lips begin to flutter down my neck, pausing to nibble and occasionally bite at the skin, all the while her knee pressing into my core. When I instinctively try to grind against her she presses her hips into mine, holding me firmly to the wall. The inability to satisfy my immediate pleasure is almost painful.

“Please Carol.”

She chuckles in response, but her hand - once fluttering over my bare stomach - trails its way under my panties. The first time she touches me is the first time that I genuinely gasp. Fuck it feels so good. She wastes no time stroking the wet folds, finding my clit and circling it teasingly. But Carol has never had the heart to tease me for long. 

“Inside.” My eyes are squeezed shut but I envision her smirk at my plead. She loves to have me within her control. 

She slides one slender finger deep inside. And that almost undoes me. I feel so disconnected from anything real that I have lost awareness of the moans and sighs that undoubtedly escape from my lips. I can’t feel anything but Carol. She thrusts into me, deeper and deeper until I can barely breathe. She leans in close to place her mouth against my ear.

“Come for me baby.”

And I can’t hold on any longer. I bite my lip, tumbling silently over the edge, riding her hand for seconds that last forever. 

When I am once again grounded, the only thing that keeps my legs from collapsing is Carols body, still pressed into mine. When I open my eyes they lock with hers which hold my gaze so intensely that I can't help but get lost in their piercing blue. I can sense the very long, deliberate breaths that she is taking. And then she tries to move away. I know Carol. She will now attempt to just get up and continue with her day. No goddamn way. It’s my turn. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I push off the wall, wrapping my hands into her hair, forcing her backwards until her knees hit the bench at the other end of the room and she falls onto it. 

I swing one leg over Carols hip, straddling her, pulling away her shirt and removing her glasses before bringing my lips down to meet hers. Carols bare skin against mine feels electric and I desperately need more. My fingers fiddle with the clasp of her cheap prison bra until it unhooks and I can throw it to the side. She pushes her chest forward into mine and the feeling of relief - to finally feel her - is overwhelming. She groans into my mouth as I reach my hand up to palm her breast, brushing fingers over her stiff nipple and I swallow the whimpers eagerly.  
Slowly I move backward off Carols lap, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pull them, as well as her pants over her hips, brushing them to the side. Carols legs spread automatically and I can’t help but smirk. I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I plant lingering kisses along the inner soft skin of her thighs, purposefully avoiding getting too close to where they meet. When I hear her breaths getting heavy I finally bring my face to her center. She is so beautiful. And so fucking wet. I continued to stroke her inner thighs until her hips begin to grind forward and I reach up with one hand to hold her steady. I part her folds with my fingers and run my tongue along the middle of her core. She lets out a deep moan and when I reach her clit she bits her lip in an attempt to hide a cry. I love this so much. I swirl my tongue slowly around the swollen bud - teasing her. After a few seconds I take it fully into my mouth and suck, still flicking its surface with the tip of my tongue. Carol screams. Her hips desperately try to push further towards me but I hold her steady. I continue sucking, moving my tongue faster against her and I feel a hand twist into my hair. Her breathing increases and I feel her legs start to tremble. Finally I move my hand from her hip and bring it down to join my mouth. As soon as it moves her hips surge forward, pressing her core further into my face. The desperate motion causes me to hum, and the vibrations result in a chorus of moans that wear down my patience. I had no idea how much I needed to fuck Carol. I continue to swirl my tongue around her clit as my fingers circle her entrance until I press one digit inside. Carol throws her head back against the wall and her fingers dig into my scalp. I pump one finger in and out of her velvet core with growing speed, until her hips find a rhythm that matches. I add two more fingers and increase the pace, both of my hand gliding in and out of her heat and the tongue still brushing against her bud. Carols moans become longer and more desiring and the soft walls surrounding my fingers begin to flutter. I don’t want this to end but I desperately need to please the women squirming beneath me, so I push my fingers deep into her core and curl them as I pull back out again and again. Carols body freezes up and her hands tighten in my hair, pushing me closer. And then for one second she is motionless, her lower lip trapped between her teeth, until she cries out in that way that makes me want to sore. I spread and curl my fingers still deep within her - trying to keep her on a high for as long as possible - before she comes back down, trembling. I finally withdraw my fingers and pop them into my mouth, sucking happily. 

“Fuck.” I laugh at Carols expression of gratitude place a kiss on the soft skin of her thigh. 

I climb back up onto her lap and capture her lips with mine. “So you had that all planned out huh? You knew exactly what was going to happen?” Carol chuckles into my mouth and hums her agreement.  
She pushes me off her lap. 

“I guess we should actually shower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not 100% sure what to write next! If anyone wants to keep reading let me know where you think the story might go. I am thinking about maybe going back again to write another chapter about Carol in high-school.


	6. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in high-school when Carols family break the news about her move to Texas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than normal but I thought I might write a series of small memories over the next few chapters. Hope you enjoy. xxx

From about fifty paces away I can see her slam her car door shut and stumble around in a full circle before running in the direction of our field. When she didn’t answer my calls after school I knew something was wrong. I knew I would find her here. Nerves knot in my stomach and know I will suffocate if they constrict my breath any further. I begin to sprint after her. 

“Carol stop…” But I whisper the words under my breath because she is running metres ahead and I don’t think she would hear if I shouted. She stops in the middle of the field a minute in front of me, but when I finally catch up I halt a few steps away from her. She can’t seem to look me in the eye. 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” Carol can’t do anything but scream, teeth bared, firsts clenched - highlighting the viens within her arms. Her whole body is tensed and almost shaking. She swaps between turning in uneven, flustered circles and standing unnaturally still. I sink to my knees, my hands mirroring Carols - clenching into fists in my lap. It frightens me that I don’t know what’s wrong, but what frightens me more is the bruise I can see forming on her cheek. That makes me burn inside. At some point, tears begin to slide down my face. I cannot even begin to describe the numb feeling of being unable to help her, being unable to do anything but wait this through until she can talk. 

I have always been able to control my anger. Internalize it until it becomes just another part of what drives me - always left unspoken but always powerful. Carol is very different. Her anger flares up suddenly and uncontrollably. It subtly consumes her until she is sapped of energy and it subsides to give way to another concentrated mood swing. Her emotions control her like no one else I’ve ever met. 

I can see her jaw clenching and unclenching repeatedly as her anger dulls and she can start to slow her breathing again. She looks up at the sky, eyes closed, and swallows. She's trying to rein it in for me. She hates it when I see her like this but as frightening as it is to see this distressed, it would be ten times worse trying to stay away - to let her deal with it in isolation. I’m not scared of her, but I’m scared of what would happen if she was ever in this state alone. She walks over and slowly sinks to her knees beside me. Her head tilts to the side while she reaches a hand up to catch the next tear that falls from my chin. She looks at the hand, face purposefully cleared of emotion, but I know that when I meet her eyes I will see it all there. 

“We’re leaving.” She still can’t look at me. I don’t understand what she’s saying.“Fucking little bitch has been accepted into some elite program in Texas. So we’re leaving.”

“Debbie?”

“Yes fucking Debbie.”

Carol cannot leave. She is the only thing that makes it bearable to deal with people day in and day out. People who don’t give a shit about my life, who I know only leave me alone because they are scared of Carols wild emotions. And Carol needs me. What if something happens in Texas and she get this angry - and no-one noticed, no-one cared, and no on-one was there to make sure she stays safe. I came to the conclusion a while back that Carol and I rely on each other to stay sane. Without me she would spiral down into an endless pit of emotion. Without her the anger that I hold back would accumulate, and I’m scared that it could get to the point where I’d do something dangerous. 

“You don’t have to go. You can stay with me and Granddad. He wouldn’t even notice.”

Carols reply is bitter and forced through gritted teeth. “Christ you don’t think I’ve considered that? You don’t think I’ve tried to tell them there's no goddamn way I’m going? I fucking have.” My eyes flick over to the darkening bruise on her cheek and the burning in my stomach flares again. Her father's fist must have ‘slipped’.“Hey - I’m not leaving. I can’t. I just have to figure something out.”

She finally meets my eyes and everything is there - the resulting hate from being slowly broken down by a family that doesn’t give a fuck, the pain of feelings that are gradually consuming her, the powerlessness of being so totally controlled by emotion. I lean forward and pull her close, winding my arms around her body and into her hair. Carol loathes to be hugged, loathes the pity that she believes inspires the action. But this time she slumps into the embrace, hands still clenched and shaking in her lap while her head falls onto my shoulder. 

“Never leave me.”   
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter another high-school Carol one I think.


	7. Snowflakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Carol in high-school chapter ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set before the previous one - soz my timeline is all over the place but I'm just going with whatever inspiration I get. Hope you enjoy.  
Also, my computer is about 100 years old so I attribute any spelling/grammar mistakes on the dodgy keyboard.

I hear the tap of a pebble hit my window and jitters fill by belly. Excited jitters. I clear the stairs of the old, crumbling building I call home two at a time, pulling my jersey and scarf from a hook in the wall. Earlier this evening I made Granddad dinner, read him the newspaper, and tucked him into bed with his old radio on. He will be fine - so I will be free all freakin night. Carol is standing outside in the middle of the street, still throwing rocks at my window. She has tucked her chin down into her scarf. When she sees me she sticks her hands out as if she is about to start flying and stamps her feet excitedly. Her grin meets her eyes and the light snowfall has resulted in silver snowflakes melting in her hair. 

“CASS!”

I giggle at her enthusiasm. She has been working longer hours than usual at the diner over the holidays and I have had to try my best to earn all the money I can from my multiple cleaning jobs since Grandpa got too sick to work. But I call her almost everyday - and I saw her last week. Still I can’t pretend that I am not delighted to see her. Especially today.

“Merry Christmas Carol.” I love that - Christmas Carol. Carol hates it, but this time she doesn’t even notice - much to my disappointment. She just wraps her arms around my neck to plant a kiss on my lips. And cheek, nose, forehead, chin. 

“Argh!! Geez Carol save something for later!!” She grins at me and pulls towards her car. She is so proud of it - it’s scarily old and the red paint is coming off - but she finally saved up enough to buy it cheap from the previous owner who was upgrading to a Ford fucking Mustang. I remember her excitement when she revealed it to me for the first time after school, promising that I would never have to walk the forty five minutes home ever again - “And every goddamn penny I paid for it with was mine.”

We hop into the car and she revs the engine. “You know what baby girl, after this summer I could almost have enough money to buy you a car too. If I can keep the job, plus money the weed brings in, I could even move out next summer - fucking independence and no fucking Barb, Debbie or parents intruding on my head-space.”

“That’s still a whole year away Carol. And it’s assuming you don’t get caught stealing booze and get sacked.” I eye the bottle that lies at my feet - along with a pack of smokes and a paper bag of gobstoppers. 

“I won’t get caught, and anyway - one more year... and I don’t have to rely on those fuckers for a roof over my head. You should have heard them yelling today when I told them I was spending the evening with you.”  
I laugh for her benefit and because I haven’t seen her this happy in ages, but I can’t help but worry. More than once Carol has turned up to school with a bruise or cut marking her body that wasn’t there the day before. When she doesn’t point out which of the suckers in our year she got into a fight with when they tried to rip her off for drugs I know that she must have received the injuries at home. 

Carol parks a block away from the public library. She grabs me by the hand and we run around the back of the huge building. The Library owners can afford to go to England for Christmas every year so always close down the whole building from Christmas Eve until New Years. The building is completely empty and really warm inside cause they can also afford good insulation. They would totally blow up if they caught us in here even though we’ve never stolen anything and we always clean up after - fucking rich people should get their priorities straight. Carol can reach a window if she stretches up on the tips of her toes. She attempts to pick the lock with a sewing pin or something - no doubt stolen from the school art class earlier that year. 

“Hurry up Carol it’s fucking freezing.”

“Yeah well you're not the only one freezing her tits off - In case you didn't notice I’m stuck out here too. Hang on.” Her face is screwed up into a concentrated frown…”Ha! I got it.” She lets out a huff of triumph and bends down on one knee, linking her fingers together to create a net. I step into her hands and she lifts me up until I can push the window open and hoist myself the rest of the way. Perched on the window sill I reach down to offer Carol my hand. She removes her mitten - her hand is really warm - and I pull her up beside me. We then both drop down into the library foyer, and make our way through the maze of rooms, shelves and stacks of books to the corner of one of the main browsing areas, down among the rows of novels. Carol sinks onto the floor - pulling me with her. 

“Merry merry MERRY Christmas princess.” She offers me a gobstopper, which I pop into my mouth eagerly and tuck into one cheek. Carol stands suddenly and spreads her arms wide, taking a few steps backward. “Behold me - the greatest Denning.” I smirk. She turns in a wide circle, knees bent and arms still flung out wide, “here is my castle”, then she pulls a small metal bottle of booze from her jersey pocket, “and here is my treasure.” She takes a long swig before continuing. “Soon to leave her home and family forever and brave the wide, dangerous world alone, if not for the company of her loyal servant.” I raise an eyebrow and push myself up off the floor to move towards her. She pulls her arms into her chest like a child and cackles. 

“Loyal servant? How about cunning sidekick. I have earned your trust but now that I have you alone who knows whether or not I will betray you.”

“I know. You would never betray me - you would crumble under the pressure of losing me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” I push Carol back into the wall behind her, knocking her breath away for a millisecond, before pressing my body into hers. “You have no idea what I am capable of.” Carols laughter is muffled by my lips. Our jackets, scarves and beanies are discarded at some point - I’m not quite sure when. Her body moves against mine in the most seductive way as she kisses me hungrily, the sounds resonating from her throat almost purrs. 

I trail one hand down her body until it reaches the waistband of her jeans. My fingers fumble with her belt and zip until, after what feels like forever, I can slide my hand under the waistband. Carols hands dig into my shoulders when my fingers reach her center, finding her clit, and a breathless cry escapes from her lips. 

When her eyes start to glaze over I slip two fingers deep inside in a slow, teasing motion. Carol swears.  
Her hips find a rhythm with my fingers, almost forcing them to move faster while I bring my thumb up to dance over her clit again. I revel in the bruises that I can feel forming on my arms where her fingers are still digging in. Her head is held back against the wall and she is biting her lower lip - causing one side to pout out over her teeth.  
My fingers search for the spot that I know will cause her to vision to black. When I finally find it her legs give out and I have to hold her waist with my free hand to keep her standing. Carols walls clench around my fingers before she crashes over the edge, her head falling forward onto my shoulder as she screams.

“Loyal servant my ass, Carol Denning.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Usually Carol prefers to fuck - not be fucked, but tonight was different. I think she needed to really feel something which, Jesus, is totally fine with me. I love the feeling of Carol writhing under my touch, the sounds that I can issue from her chest - the moans. The girlish cries. It’s so unlike every other form of Carol that there is and I revel in it. 

Now she lies there on her floor of the library, sucking on a gum-ball and flicking through a magazine. Her hair is mussed up, her cheeks are still slightly flushed, and I feel overwhelming emotion towards her. Carol is passionate, erratic and unpredictable. She is vengeful, violent, manipulative, and powerful in her own dependent and unstable way.  
I am most definitely in love with a sociopath. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure what the next chapter will be about or where it will be on the timeline. Maybe thinking about writing from Carol's POV but I'm a little scared so Imma wait and see. 
> 
> ;)


	8. Cellmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol requests for a cellmate switch in order to be closer to Cass - who has to establish her place in the prison hierarchy among the other inmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this just turned out to be another present day Carol chapter - and I chickened out of a Carol POV!!!

I’m lying in my cell trying to hold on to a feeling of stability before it - as it undoubtedly know it will - slips away. Carol is way different than she was in high school; she’s colder, harder, more in control. I cannot help but notice that she didn’t actually need me as much as I had once believed. There were times when we were teenagers when I was nervous - when she was distressed, broken and uncontrollable. I was sure that without me she wouldn't be able to calm down, to stay out of danger. In a way it was that knowledge that kept me sane cause I could convince myself that Carol and all her wild, untamable energy wouldn’t disappear - cause she needed me.   
Obviously I was so fucking wrong. Yes, admittedly she did it in prison, but she fucking thrived. She didn’t need me in order to stay in control. Carol had disappeared and when she did I died while she rose to the top. 

But… No matter how much Carol has changed, and no matter how much I’ve changed, I still feel happier and in more control than I have since high-school. I am going to take that as a sign; I didn’t fall for who Carol was when we were kids. I fell for Carol. Period. Even now - years later - I am still falling for this very different, yet still very familiar person

Also I realize how freaking stupid it is to be jealous of Carol for doing a better job protecting Carol than I did.   
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………... 

The day after the showers I am transferred into Carols cell. I had no say in it whatsofuckingever- not that I would have it any other way. When I first enter the cell she is lying on her bunk reading a magazine, lollipop stick hanging from one corner of her lips - which curl into an amused smirk as I enter the room, though her eyes continue to scan the contents of her reading material. 

“So I guess I get the top bunk.”

“And don’t pretend your pissed cause I know you prefer it.” Carol still doesn’t look up from her mag as she speaks, but rolls the lollipop to her other cheek. I toss my stuff onto the upper bunk and take a seat on a round metal stool in the corner of the small cell.

“And I guess I also don’t get any say in whether or not I want to be transferred here either huh?”

“Nope.” I love the way her lips have to move around the sweet in her mouth in order to form comprehensible words. “Queen bitch has gotta come with some perks.”

“Yeah right - aside from never ending commissary money and the total command over of every inmate, guard and friggin rat from here to china.”

“Exactly!” That one word contains so much triumph - the content smugness of winning prison. It’s so cute. She still hasn’t looked at me though. 

“That’s excluding me of coarse.”

“Mmmm?” Her smirk grows but still no eye contact. Jesus, this hard to get game is new. I don’t remember having to play it with her before. 

“In fact I do believe that I am the power behind the throne… The Lady Macbeth to your Macbeth if you will.”   
She doesn’t acknowledge my Shakespeare reference but her smirk crawls further up her stupid face. I am going to play along with this hard to get game at some point cause I know that no way would she beat me if I ever actually decided to try. But for now screw that, cause her smirk is really turning me on. I close the gap between us, ducking under the lip of the top bunk to position myself on her lap. 

I place my hands on her thighs and whisper her name.“Carol””

“Hmmm?” Her thighs twitch under my hands, revealing the excitement under her calm facade. 

“Put down that fucking magazine Carol.” I am surprised at how husky my voice has become in the space of a few seconds. She's noticed. Her eyes flick up to mine for the fraction of a second but that is all that it takes for me to lock them in place with my own. Ha - I won. 

She bites down on the remainder of her lollipop before leaning upwards to capture my lips with hers. I can feel her unwavering smirk disappear under the touch. Her hands come up to hold my neck, keeping me from pulling back too soon, her magazine forgotten. The sugary sweet flavour that meets me is far stronger than usual and I savor every second. My hands rise up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer to me. The kiss is slower, more deliberate than previously, and the reality of her lips moving against mine is intoxicating. Until she releases my neck and falls back on the bed, leaving me still straddling her hips - my hands falling back down onto her thighs. 

“Piss off love, I wasn’t fuckin finished my book,”

“It’s called a magazine Carol and I’d bet my ass your just looking at the pictures.” But I remove myself from her lap anyways and snatch up a pack of cards lying on one of her shelves. Carols things are arranged in absolute precision - everything has a place and everything is straight, thought through, controlled. It screams authority.   
I place a kiss on her cheek before leaving the room - but just before I pull away, when my face in close enough to hers to hear her breathing, she murmurs. 

“You do want to be here right?” Her underlying doubt - her desire for me to want her in return - is the best thing that has happened to me since I entered the gates of Litchfield. She is avoiding my eyes again - as if afraid of the answer. 

“Jesus Carol. Yes.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I take a seat at a table in the corner of the room and set out Carols cards to play spider solitaire. It doesn’t take me long to win... Twice. I’ve had a lot of practice playing lone card games - most of my jobs before they finally arrested me consisted of hours of waiting, watching, before actually identifying the target and taking him out. 

“Sooo, Edevane… What are we up to?” Madison's childish drawl sounds from above me. I don’t look up but continue to sort through the pack of cards.

“What do you want Madison.” The so called ‘Badison’ has been glaring at me even since Carol inducted me into her group, which has only been for a few fucking days. Badison is way too salty over my new position as Carols top dog.

“Hey hey hey, why the menacing tone Edevane…. Chill. Just checkin’ you were assigned to the right cell you know - I would hate for there to be a mix up or something.”   
She wants it to sound like a threat but I think she’s actually worried - Carol must have given her the task of swapping me with whoever used to be Carol’s lucky roommate. She’s making sure she didn’t screw it up. 

“Yeah I found my way fine.” 

I still don’t look up at her. I appreciate my automatic spot at the top of the C-block food chain but I really don’t want to be caught up in the Madison drama it seems to entail. She’s sloppy and has no brain herself - she just leeches off Carol. I don’t want to get involved in any prison bullshit unless it’s going to provide an actual intellectual challenge, a real threat. 

“Hey Edevane. Look at me. Your shiny new face may have caught Carols eye for now but that sparkle’s gonna wear off eventually and she’s gonna move on to the next exciting new prize. And trust me, you don’t wanna be on my bad side when that happens.”

Fuck you Madison. I drop the cards in my hand and push myself up from the table, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her towards me. The two girls shadowing her step back slightly, not sure how to react at the abrupt movement. 

“So you’re saying that Carol is flimsy huh? She doesn’t know how to make a long term investment.”   
I have to hold in my anger in order for my words to come out as a menacing whisper instead of an unstable growl.   
“You think you’ve earned her trust? You think your not replaceable? I’d be careful what you say about her Madison cause I really don’t think your as fucking valuable as you think.”

“Shit Edevane chill ou….Fuck owww!” My hand slides down her arm to grip her middle finger and twist. Her yelp attracts the attention of the simple looking red-head guard who was knocked out outside the salon. I think his name tag says Alvarez but he’s not a threat so I haven't made it a priority to confirm.

“HEY LADIES- break it up.”

I glare at Madison's baby face as Alvarez strides towards us. I keep twisting her finger until it cracks beneath my grip.  
“Don’t scream.” I hiss the warning through gritted teeth just before the snap - giving her just long enough to compute the order before her finger breaks. She grinds her teeth together and muffles a cry as the bone cracks. I let her go just before Alvarez reaches us and hold both hands above my head in surrender. 

“Hey sorry - Madison here was just bugging me about playing cards. She didn’t realize I prefer to play alone. It’s fine now right Madison?”   
Madison nods at the guard - teeth still clenched. Alvarez squints at us through suspicious eyes but doesn't push the matter, backing up to his position against the far wall but keeping an eye on us all the same. Any other guard would have dragged us down to solitary. I was right about him - no threat.

“Jesus Christ Edevane. You just broke my fucking finger.” I tilt my head to the side and purse my lips. I’m not going to risk diminishing any power that I may have established with a response.   
“I guess enjoy playing cards alone then.” Her comment is an attempt to leave with some dignity but it falls flat. She walks away with her hand tucked under her arm - trying to hide the pain of the injury. Hopefully I don’t have to deal with Madison’s wannabe shit from this point on. 

The feeling of that break under my hand was so satisfying. I haven’t done that in so long. Outside the prison sometimes my boss would have me take down a particularly annoying rival, and it would always up my pay if I drew out the death - slowly breaking each finger, toe, rib, before cutting their throat or punching a hole in their skull with my 6 F-2000 Assault Rifle. God I miss the cold weight of the metallic gun in my hands. 

I pick Carol’s cards back up and continue to arrange another round of solitaire.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

When I enter my new cell just before lights out, a guard locking the door behind me, Carol is already stretched out on her mattress. Her arms are held behind her head and her eyes stare up lazily at the underside of my upper bunk. Radiating power.

“How was the magazine? Did you like the ending?”

“Ohhhh yeah - real fucking cliffhanger.” I throw a disapproving look her way but am only met by raised eyebrows and a quirk from one corner of her mouth. Her eyes linger over my body as I remove my shirt and pants, replacing them with my grey prison-style night shirt. I can’t help but make a subtle show of pulling the shirt over my head when I see the hungry look in her piercing blue eyes deepen. The ability to turn Carol on is my favorite quality about myself. I take a sideways glance at her, stretched out on her mattress like a sphinx, before beginning to ascend upwards to my bunk. 

“Hey. What are you doing.” 

“Sleeping - why?”

“I kinda thought you’d sleep down here.” She says it in her demanding authoritarian tone, but it’s a question, not a command - a question containing self doubt hidden under a tone that doesn’t allow that doubt to overshadow her pride. I would have been crushed if she actually wanted to sleep separately but I didn’t want to presume. I descend the ladder maybe too eagerly. 

“Your wish is my command.” 

She shimmies over to one side of the tiny bunk, allowing me to slip under the covers next to her. 

“You sure about that Princess? I could make a lot more commands.” 

“I’m sure.”

There’s silence for a few moments before, “So I hear you broke something of Badisons today. How long is it going to take for you to screw up my pecking order?” She doesn’t sound too worried. 

“She was trying to establish some kind of power over me. I don’t need that - what do you see in her? Not her brains I hope.” 

In our closeness I feel Carol’s chest shake against me in a silent chuckle. “Fuck no - but it’s useful to keep a few puppy dogs at the ready. If I surround myself with too many smart cookies I won’t stay on top for very long.”

“But your the smartest Carol.” My sarcastic tone earns me a cold stare. 

“Humph.” She presses her lips to my forehead before turning over, facing away from me and allowing me to wrap my arms around her waist - falling into our old pattern. My legs curl up so that I am practically cradling her body. This is how it’s always been - Carol is the daunting, threatening fury during the day - strong and independent - but at night she’s all mine. I bury my face into the crook of her neck, my lips pressed to her collarbone. It’s quiet for so long I think she must have gone to sleep, but when she eventually mumbles I can feel the vibrations resonating from within her throat. 

“Didn’t Lady Macbeth throw herself off a fuckin balcony or something? And then Macbeth didn’t even give a shit.”

“Yeah but your looking too far into the metaphor.” I’m kinda tickled that she remembers Shakespeare cause it means she actually used to listen to my literature ramblings. “And you would be crushed if I threw myself off a balcony.”

“Yeah I would. Don’t do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


	9. Hopeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol doesn't know how to cope with the realization of the effect of her influence on Cassidy as a teenager.

“So essentially you were a hit-man?” 

“Well yeah, I guess.”

“For major drug traffickers?” I nod in confirmation and Carol’s chin wrinkles as she presses her lips together and nods, one thin eyebrow arched - I think she's impressed. 

“How the fuck are you not being more carefully surveyed? After ten murders you’d think they’d be on goddamn high alert - especially after the Barb incident.” Carols eyes narrow when she mentions Barb. She’s seen the scars on my arms and stomach, and while she hasn’t addressed them directly, I’ve noticed the anger that flashes over her face whenever they are exposed.

“I only took the fall for the last guy I shot - so as far as anyone is concerned, I just killed the one man.”

“Wait seriously? That’s fucking hilarious.” 

There’s silence for a bit and I take the time to survey the courtyard. Carol and I are leaning against one of the brick walls at the far end of the court - allowing us full view of all goings on during the hour long ‘yard time.’ So far two fights have broken out over the past fifty minutes, as well as the occasional ‘girl accidentally walks into another girl’ which results in the passing over of drugs or phones or some shit. During these occasional incidents I’ve noticed the guards literally pointing at the subtle and very illegal exchange but not actually doing anything about it. People outside don’t realize how screwed up this system is - we’re just the ‘bad guys’ who have to be hidden away from society. They have no idea how tough it is to survive in here and how hard it is to actually make it out unharmed, without any added time. To be fair, in my case the system screwed up in my favor and I received twenty years for a single homicide instead of a life sentence for multiple assassinations but hey, I’m thinking generally. I saw a body being carried out of the showers yesterday. It was the model looking girl that arrived at Litchfield in the same van as I did - the one Hellman took a keen interest in. In a matter of weeks her skin had gone from glowing to a sickly yellowish colour, hair from glossy to disheveled. Alive to dead. That had kinda shaken me up.  
Carol turns her head lazily towards me. 

“What I can’t figure out is why you had to go fuckin up your life in the first place. You could have been fine.” 

I knew she was going to bring this up eventually. The whole ‘next Charles Dickens’ future that I had all planned out. She doesn’t understand that that was going to be OUR future and when she was arrested that daydream had died for me. Everything became so real after she was locked up and I hadn’t even wanted to think about stuff like that anymore. 

“After you left Granddad died, and my cleaning jobs didn’t cut it anymore. I was devastated and homeless and avoiding government lackies left and right trying to put me in foster care or something. That guy you used to sell weed for was my only option. I needed money.”

A frown breaks the peaceful expression on Carol’s face. She looks like she swallowed something bitter. 

“No Goddamn way - what about the diner I worked at. You could have found a job at the fuckin library - with books and shit. Dealing was not the only option.” 

She is trying to sound calm but I can hear the heat starting to make its way into her tone. 

“Yeah it kinda was Carol. You do realize no-one trusted me after you were charged with freaking murder. I was the girl who kissed the girl who killed her sister. Not the kind of thing on your record that gets you very far.”

Carol goes quiet. After a few seconds of silence - not our usual, mutually comfortable silence - I roll my head to one side to look at her. Her eyes are staring at the ground and her lips are parted slightly. I don’t know what she's thinking. 

“Carol?”

“OK LADIES TIME’S UP.” One of the guards - Mccullough - starts pushing people around, trying to herd the mass of moaning women indoors. Mccullough is one of the guards that I just don’t get. She’s either awkward and timid or violent and angry. I avoid her. 

Carol pushes off the wall, eyes still fixed on the ground, and starts walking towards the line of girls unwillingly trundling back inside. I follow after her confused. Is she guilty? I don’t blame her for how my life unfolded. She’s right, I could have tried harder - moved somewhere I didn’t have a reputation, proved myself as a hard worker or whatever - but I took the easy option. I worked my way up the ranks until one way or another I wasn’t selling drugs but killing off some of the biggest dealers in the US. And I was fucking good at my job. I was as fucking rich until my boss decided I knew too much or something and tagged me as a liability. Which I should have seen coming. It’s my fault I ended up here. 

She makes a beeline for our cell and lowers herself down her metal stool - me following behind her like a lost puppy. I lean against the wall closest to the door of our cell and slide down until I am seated on the cold floor. Everything feels tense. 

“Carol it’s not your fault. I chose to involve myself with the wrong sort of people my whole life - multiple times there was an opportunity for an out but I didn’t take it. I did this to myself.” 

She drags her eyes from the floor to stare at her hands, lying open in her lap. Her jaws clench visibly and I can feel her processing my words before she speaks. 

“But I was the first ‘wrong sort of person’ though wasn’t I? Don’t tell me that you were skipping school and drinking hooch before you met me because I know that’s Bullcrap. ”

“I wasn’t happy before I met you. You think you had more of an impact on me than you did Carol - I had control over myself. I’m not a good person and you had nothing to do with that. I actually think I could have been way worse if it wasn’t for you.”

She lets out a laugh. Not her usual delightedly-amused chuckle, but a bitter huff. 

“OK Princess.”

That was her putting walls up. She doesn’t say anything else. I don’t know what to do but I know that I cannot take just sitting here - her looking all of a sudden very fragile. I stand up and slip out of the room, making my to the cleaning storage closet with a broken lock, crouching down in the dark among the mops and detergent, feeling numb.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When I emerge from the closet to make my way to dinner my usual spot beside Carol is unoccupied. That means she’s not angry with me. Maybe she just needed to think stuff over. At first I had been annoyed that she got upset - this was my life and I had worked hard to get to the top, and here she was assuming that she could take the credit for my job or my income or whatever, whether she thought that was a good thing or not. But I after sitting in the closet for what must have been hours I realized that she wasn’t thinking about herself. She was thinking about me. It was causing her pain to think I had ended up here because of her.  
I make my way over with a food tray to take my seat beside her. She seems OK. As usual, the girls around her fight to tell the best joke or relay the most useful piece of information, while Carol just sits and listens for the most part, occasionally smirking or throwing in a sarcastic comment which either diminishes a girl completely or establishes them as useful and thus the envy of all for the next few days before they screw up again. Ohh the absolute and unquestionable power of Carol. 

But all through dinner and all through the evening routine she doesn’t look me in the eye once. Which has become a commonality since I was first thrown into C-block, but for the first time it’s beginning to send cold chills down my spine. She barely talks to me either. When the guards lock us into our cell and the lights are switched out I wordlessly question whether or not to sleep up in my bunk for the first time since she transferred me in with her, but decide against it. She allows me to slip in beside her and wrap my arms around her waist in our usual position, but doesn’t sink into the embrace, instead holding her body tense and alert. Maybe I miss the young, chaotic Carol. She would scream and curse and shake with emotion but at least I always knew what she was feeling. I don’t get any sleep the whole night because all I can focus on is the cold, rigid body lying beside me. 

And I don’t get any sleep the day after, or the day after that. Carol has stopped talking to me, started to avoid being around me - much to Madisons glee. I can still sit at my spot at the table for meals. Each night I curl up next to her but each night she is stiff and guarded. It kills me. What the fuck is going on inside her head? It feels like some higher fucking power is taking the piss - I finally found Carol Denning but also I didn’t. 

Every morning the lights come on at 5:00 - not in the individual cells but in the rec/dining area outside. I haven’t been able to sleep the past three nights so instead of slumbering through it like I did in the past when the light invades the cell I slide out from under the covers and start pacing. This is the third morning I have spent pacing. I don’t actually know if Carol was awake or sleeping last night but in either case she waits about twenty minutes before interrupting my pacing to acknowledge my absence. 

“Hey - come on its fucking early.” I stop pacing for a second. She must be at least drowsy cause I don’t think she was fully aware that she spoke a complete sentence to me for the first time in three days. If I can only keep the conversation going...

“Did you sleep, because I didn’t sleep.”

She doesn’t answer but shakes her head and turns over so that her body is no longer facing the wall. Her face looks hopeless. I pace over to the stool and almost fall into it. I’m so tired. The hardest thing is that every now and again I can sense her trying to cheer up - trying to hold onto a conversation - but she literally can’t. 

“Carol please talk to me.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me baby girl.” This is so her. She is closing off and pulling away and this exactly what I was afraid of back on day one.

“I want you to look at me Carol.” No reaction. “LOOK AT ME CAROL.” Her head snaps up at that. I might have woken up a few other inmates in our neighboring cells. But finally she is looking at me. I can see the emotions well up in her eyes. 

“Fuck.” She doesn’t exactly say it but she mouths the word silently. I shuffle over to her, now sitting on the edge of the bed with head in hands, to kneel at her feet. I removed her hands from her face to replace them with mine. This sad Carol is so unlike the hardened, sarcastic, yet subtly cheeky person that I was just beginning to understand. 

“Carol please don’t cut me off. You have to believe me when I say it wasn’t you. You said it yourself - ‘no one like us actually succeeds’. This is just me.” 

She watches me with tired eyes. I don’t think she’s slept in days either. 

“I’m allowed to be a psychopath too Carol.”

God, she smirked a little. And it’s such a relief. I pull her head down to press my lips into hers. This is it - I can feel Carol begin to give in as she relaxes for the first time since the yard. Her lips are so soft. I missed her so much. She pulls back. Her eyes pierce into mine as she attempts to convey the sincerity of her next words. 

“I’m never going to forgive myself.”

I can feel a tear slip over the side of my cheek. 

“But I missed you Princess. I’m too selfish to stay away.”

I shake my head but words aren’t going to work right now, so instead I climb up beside her and warp my arms around her trim waist, easing us down to lie on the mattress. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was going to go somewhere in the beginning but I ended just waffling on and nothing happened. But it was way more interesting to write that to study for exams so I hope someone enjoys ;)


	10. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter set in present day. Written from Carols POV 😬

It’s moments like this - when she’s lying on my bed with one of my playboy magazines in her face and one of my lollipops in her goddamn mouth, when it really hits me how badly I fucked up letting her win me over again. Everything was way feakin’ easier when emotional factors didn’t play into my decisions. 

She hasn’t noticed me leaning against the door frame yet. It’s a relief when we’re finally stuck inside our bunks at night behind locked doors. I can never fully relax outside. Fucking Barb and her doting shits have finally been released from solitary after their little stunt a few weeks back and the bitch’s now intent on revenge. Letting my guard down for even a second would result in my walking round a corner to find my girl on the floor with a shiv in her back. Why can't Barb just fixate on OUR personal Vendetta - she doesn’t need to include Cass in it. Fuck. 

She’s so innocent lying there. Every time she turns the page she subtly wiggles in excitement, and every time it becomes a bit harder to keep a straight face. I need to find her an actual book. Her eyes flick up and briefly - not really seeing me until a few seconds after they flick bag to the magazine. . 

“Shit!! Shit Carol don’t creep up on me.” 

I push off the door frame to close in on her. 

“I didn’t. You were just too busy lookin at boobs to notice.” 

She has the decency to look a little embarrassed. The subtle blush that ghosts across her cheeks is the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen. My heart flutters. See this is the freaking problem - the flutters and sudden lurches and paranoid protective instincts. And the fact that I’d fucking die if that was ever taken away from me again. 

“It was just lying there. And I was sooo bored and…”

I raise my eyebrows, cocking my head to the side. Stone cold poker face. 

“Hey I’m not judging… Squidge over and lemme see.”

Her delighted laugh is enough to result in a smirk breaking though. I lower down onto the mattress beside her. She presses into me, subconsciously I think, and starts flicking back through the pages to show me her favourite photos. I’ve seen them all before but I nod appreciatively anyway - nice tits are nice tits and that doesn’t get old. Hers certainly didn’t, even after 20 odd years.  
Earlier today I had her hustle one of the newer cookies who’s been trying to worm her way up the ranks a little to eagerly. She cornered her outside in the yard, shiv hidden in her sleeve, her cold stone-cold, foreboding facade on point. Fuck, the newbie was scared shitless. And I was goddamn turned on. 

I slide my hand down her waist to rub against the inside of her leg. Without realising it she wiggles again and I have to let out a silently amused huff. Her fingers continue to turn the pages and point at pictures while I nuzzle her neck. Then I nip her ear - hard.

“Carol!! Ouch. What mood are you in?!” 

I don’t answer but let the hand between her legs press into the growing heat at the junction of her thighs. 

“Shit.”

She frowns at the proud chuckle that escapes my throat. Her excuse is voiced as a breathy whisper.

“This isn’t fair - I’ve been flipping through your goddamn porn mags all evening - I’m already turned on.”

“All the better to fuck you my dear.”

She giggles and squirms out of my arms to stand up in the middle of the cell. 

“Oh yeah?

“Yeah.”

Her smile curls seductively and she bends down to grip the bottom of her grey-prison style nightgown. She pulls it up ever so slowly, swaying her hips as she removes it, wearing nothing underneath. I tilt my head to the side and smirk - she thinks her movements unsettle me - and she is so fucking right. She pulls the fabric over her head, her whole body stretched out in front of me - and lets it fall to the floor.  
I push forcefully off the bunk and grab onto her waist - forcing her back against the metal bench on the far side of the cell. She elicits a noise halfway between a cry and a giggle before I press my lips into hers, muffling the sound. My hand comes up to grip her chin, holding her head steady, and the other closes around her throat so that I can feel her resulting moans vibrate through my fingers. My teeth sink into her lower lip and pierce the soft skin, before trailing down to nip at the skin of her collar bone. Her groan becomes more frantic. 

“Hush baby girl. We don’t want to wake anyone up do we?”

She responds by biting her lip, which doesn’t do shit to suppress the noise. Not that I care - I revel in it. I remove my hand from her neck and dig my fingers into her hips, lifting her onto the cold steel table. I allow a knuckle to finally brush against her swollen pearl and she throws her head back against the wall, chest heaving. I dip two fingers into her heat before she gets the chance to gain control of herself long enough to realise how flustered I’m getting. 

“Fuck….Carol. Please.”

Her desperate plea evokes a smirk. I love this bit - when she loses control of all pride and fucking begs for release. 

“What was that Baby Girl? What do you need?” 

“I need you to fuck me.”

Bringing one hand up to cup her cheek, I push in a third finger and increase my speed as she moans. One of her hands comes down to grip mine - pumping in and out of her core as the table begins to rock. She looks like a fucking goddess - head thrown against the wall, golden hair splayed out across her forehead, mouth pouting open in a silent gasp. Working herself on my fingers.  
Her hips start to buck, body writhing against me. Fuck. Each time she surges forward her knee grinds into my centre through the fabric of my uniform. My vision blacks for a second the first time her leg pushes against my already throbbing clit. My fingers slow for a second while I try to push through the haze and regain control, only causing her hips to desperately push forward. I swear under my breath.  
Sliding my hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, I pull her forehead down to rest against mine and drive my fingers deep inside her pussy. Her walls begin to convulse against the digits. 

“Don’t you dare fucking come.”

My warning sounds almost as ragged as her pained response, whispered in between breaths. 

“Jesus Carol. I can’t...Oh my God!!!”

A few more thrusts and the growing warmth inside my abdomen clenches. My hand, once holding her neck, drops down against the wall in an attempt to brace myself.

“Please Carol.”

“OK”

She comes undone immediately, whole body tensing up for the fraction of a second before spasming. The sight of her squirming pushes me over the edge and I lose awareness, gritting my teeth and silently ride the wave. Fuck. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

A few nights ago some guard sent her down to solitary for a night for some inconsequential dumb-ass reason - no biggy, I pulled some strings and she came back the next day - but for that one night I couldn’t sleep for a single fucking second. The weight of her arms around my waist in the darkness, her breath in my ear, has become a goddamn necessity. If I can’t feel the rhythm of her heartbeat against my back I get nervous - it’s freaking pathetic. 

What in god's name is wrong with me.  
But all the worry, paranoia, emotions - it’s fucking worth it. My girl is the only thing left in this awful existence that makes everything worth it. I’ve never needed any other person in this painful, frightening and all powerful way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took way longer than expected. I started writing from Carols POV and then I got nervous - I'm not 100% happy with the result but something is better than nothing!
> 
> I really appreciate any comments you guys have - let me know if you have any (any random idea) suggestions cause I'm running out of inspiration :)


	11. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol and Cass meet for the first time in highschool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed out this chapter quickly while in between other potential chapters that are proving harder to write. 
> 
> Not as much Carol in it as I hoped by I thought I'd do a chapter outlining some background info. It has a few dark connotations. 
> 
> I haven't gone over to correct grammar so if it's choppy to read that why - my apologies!!!

Grandads house is dying. It’s creaky, the off-white paint is flaking on the outside and it’s two stories appear to be sinking in on each other - as if the house was feeling its age. Inside I can tell that he tried to clean it up really well in order to appear fit to take me out of the foster system, but that drained his energy and he hasn’t touched it since. In the less used rooms my footprints leave marks on the dusty floor, and the wall paper peels back from the corners of the walls. 

One or two pickets of the fence have fallen over and splintered, and the brick pathway leading up to the front door is cracked - allowing weeds to spill over the edges. His garden is beautiful though - daffodils and poppies arranged neatly around a huge willow standing in the middle of the lawn which obscures the house from people driving past. Grandad spends every waking minute after work within his garden. 

In order to get to my room I have to ascend the faded carpeted staircase which screams at me each time I shift my weight. The room itself is painted a dull yellow and is oddly shaped - like all seriously old houses the walls come in at weird angles so that the space is less of a square, and more an irregular hexagonal shape. I heaved my suitcase onto the tiny bed and haven’t unpacked it yet, even after five days. It’s not that I feel the need to resist being here - this is way better than the loud, irritating, in your face foster homes that I’ve been passed round the last two years. I just don’t want to see everything in there. Each time I’m moved across the country I feel like I can be a different person, but the belongings in my suitcase are the same each time I unpack - a constant reminder that I’m stuck with me. Now Grandad is stuck with me. 

He’s trying really hard - the worn sheets on my bed have flowers on them, and he rolled a heater out of the storage room when I arrived. I even caught him trying to paint the fence outside yesterday afternoon. But he’s old and tired and really isn’t up to looking after another person. I’ve decided to scrub down the floors tomorrow cause I think the gathering dust is what’s causing his never-ending cough. 

I’m lying on the floor of the tiny room - where I’ve been sleeping each night in order to avoid touching the suitcase lying on my bed - staring at the ceiling. I can make out faint water marks where rain must have dripped through holes in the roof. No wonder the house is freaking cold. 

I remember visiting once before when I was seven. I think I slept in this room. The paint on the walls was bright, and the light switch worked. I remember Grandad being happy. I remember mum being happy. Mum was the kind of beautiful wild person that made everything hopeful. I can just imagine Grandads house sinking in on itself when she died, him fading with it. 

I remember walking through the front door after school, years after the visit, and finding mum hanging from our staircase. I guess she wasn’t really that happy. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

It takes almost a whole fucking hour to walk to school from Grandads house. He can’t drive me cause he’s gotta get up at 5:00 am every morning to drive to work at some apple orchard - apparently he puts in extra hours cause the guy who employs him has every reason to let him go now that he’s not as strong as he used to be. I almost decided not to go - Granddad doesn’t see me leave and he gets home well after schools out - but I don’t want to lie to him. Which pisses me off cause I don’t usually give a fuck about lying to people. 

High School is full of shit. I used to actually enjoy learning - especially English - when I was younger, but high-school isn’t about learning. It’s about who’s the cheerleader and who’s gonna drop out cause their too good for college, and how dramatic you can play off the average normal bullshit that happens to every teenager ever. At least this school doesn’t have a uniform - I just threw on a pair of overalls and Doc Martens. Which meant I had to unpack my suit-case. 

The school bell sounds just as I enter the gates - so I’ll probably be late. I have a timetable already, Grandad picked it up yesterday, but I don’t know where the hell anything is. Apparently I have PE first. I spend a good ten minutes wandering round the halls until I find the gym - which becomes easy once the squeak of sneakers on the rubber floor and the cries of pain echo through the building. I pull the door open and lean against the wall inside the gym. There must be about thirty kids hurling basketballs at each other from either side of the hall - gotta be dodge-ball. 

Actually that’s not true; there’s about twenty kids hurling the balls, about nine hovering at the edges, leaning into one foot awkwardly, and one crazy guy just running around like a maniac taunting the other team. If the awkward kids had the guts to group together they could kick some butt. 

The PE teacher is blowing her whistle uselessly and yelling at the boy running round like a headless chicken - to no avail. She notices me leaning against the door and and strides over in my direction, her whistle bouncing against her huge chest. I fold my arms and tilt my head to the side - I’m not gonna be the new shy kid who doesn’t talk to anyone, I’m gonna be the cold doesn’t-give-a-fuck kid who doesn’t talk to anyone. 

“You must be the new kid right? Your late. Do you have PE gear yet?”

I purse my lips and shake my head at the teacher. She responds by raising an eye-brow and cocking her head towards the stands at the far end of the gym. 

“Well you don’t get to play without gear. You can sit over there for this lesson and observe. Come with your gear tomorrow - if you hand in ID at the office they can give you some.”

What fucking ID? I stared at her for a second longer before pushing off the wall and swaggering over to the stands. I hope I swagger. When I was younger I would make friends with the teachers, I was enthusiastic and eager to please. That’s all bullshit. Having an enthusiastic kid didn’t give mum a reason to stick around. I’m gonna be different here - I don’t have to be anything for anyone here. 

It’s amusing to watch the game. It’s easy to pick out the 'cheerleaders'- they have shiny hair and tiny hips. They act tough and confident when hurling the basketballs at the other team, but as soon as their hit they break down and lean on their shiny, skinny friends for support as if they can’t believe someone would actually target them. There’s the geeks who shy away from every movement and then there’s the geeks that are taking the opportunity to heave the ball at the nearest cheerleader. And there's still that weird guy still screaming round the court like an idiot. I think he’s somehow changed teams since the beginning of the game. 

There’s this one girl standing in the middle of the court who I can’t suss out. She’s not exactly taking part in the game - but she doesn’t seem awkward or geeky - she looks bored and kind of exasperated. Her hair is ginger-brown and falls just past her shoulders and she’s got freakin huge glasses. She’s frowning at the game, and I can make out her jaw clenching. I absentmindedly clench my jaw. I almost want to call out a warning as stray ball smashes into the back of her head, and when it connects with her skull my stomach lurches a little. Her reaction is electric; she swings around, her frown deepening into rage, and locks eyes with the nearest person - a blond ‘cheerleader.’ The cheerleader snorts. 

“Jeez Denning chill, it wasn’t me.” 

“Whatever. You hit my goddamn head! You think fucking the teachers means you can break the rules huh? Pity Mrs PE teacher isn’t a middle aged man having a midlife crisis cause hitting above the shoulders isn’t allowed.”

I smirk at the dumbfounded look on the cheerleaders face. Some of the other kids in the class have ceased firing at each other and have turned to watch. The cheerleader’s struggling to say something bitchy. 

“Bullshit.”

Wow. What a come-back. 

“Bullfuckingtrue!!”

“You think that cause you sister is a big deal that you get to talk to me huh Denning? Well you don’t - you know, nobody gives a shit what you think hun.” 

“Arghhhh!!!!”

The girl lurches forward and punches the cheerleader in the face, who cries out like a baby and latches onto the girl’s - Denning’s - hair. The whole class is watching now - some of them look worried, most of them look excited. The crazy, jeering boy takes the opportunity to gather all the basketballs into a pile before perching on top of them like a mother hen. I like him. The PE teacher manages to pull the two girls apart after a few seconds, but the cheerleader has what is going to turn into a black eye, a bloody nose, and ripped clothes. She looks way worse off than ‘Denning’, who just looks furious. 

“OK PEOPLE!!! Game’s finished . Get changed. Denning AND Anderson, you get to have lunch in the principal's office today.”

The cheerleader looks horrified and follows after the PE teacher, likely pleading her innocence, as the class starts to file off towards what I assume are the changing rooms. ‘Denning’ has clenched her fists and her chest is heaving. She has a nice chest. As she turns away to trudge after the others, her eyes lock with mine for a second. She tilts head head to the side, looking almost curious, and I can’t look away. Her eyes only hold mine for a second though, before her jaw clenches again and she storms off. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

During lunch break I head back to the gym - a familiar place within a maze of students and corridors, plus it’s empty. Grandad gave me $10 before he left this morning to buy food from a dairy on the walk to school, but I decided to stash it instead. So I’ve got no lunch. I pull out a copy of ‘The Godfather’ and lie back on the stands to read. Grandad doesn’t have much but he does have a bookshelf full of seriously sweet books. 

The door swings open at the far end of the gym and I hear harsh footsteps moving towards me. If I pretend not to notice they might be scared off. 

“Hey whothefuck’s that. You goddamn know I’ve this place booked up outside of class - Scram.” 

My stomach clenches when I recognise the voice of the Denning girl. I don’t understand the butterflies. 

“Look I don’t care what you’re doing. I’ll just lie here and read and you can sneak guys into the changing rooms to fuck or whatever. I won’t see anything” 

The heavy footfalls cease at the edge of the stands, and it takes all my willpower to keep my eyes focused on the page. 

“Your the new girl.”

I don’t answer, but nod. All my attention is directed into moving my eyes from left to right over the words of my book,  _ “revenge is a dish that tastes best when served cold _ ,” but my brain doesn’t really compute their meaning. I’m very aware of how close the Denning girl is. 

“Well here’s the deal Doll-face - I don’t fuck boys, and you're scaring away my buyers so unless your willing to purchase you can piss off like everyone else.” 

Her words don’t leave room for compromise, in fact, I don’t think anything I’ve heard her say since first class has.  _ ‘Piss off like everyone else.’ _ Those words had sounded slightly different though - bitter maybe. 

“I thought you were meant to be in the principal's office.”

“Fuck that I don’t need to explain shit to him - or to you.”

She doesn’t sound worried in the slightest. I’d bet anything the cheerleader turned up. 

“What are you selling?”

Out of the corner of my eye her hands fumble through her coat and bring out a bundle of smokes. Marijuana. Denning deals weed in the gym at lunch. I can almost feel her raised eyebrows testing me. This is the one test I’m gonna fail - not cause I don't have the guts or anything - I don’t do drugs anymore, period. 

“I don’t do that.” 

“Fine then, so why are you still fucking around.” 

Dammit. I tuck my book bag into my bag, and my eyes flick up to hers and she's staring directly at me. Her expression doesn’t match the unquestionable tone of her voice. It looks powerful yet confused and lost. 

She’s so tall, but inconspicuously so. I feel way too vulnerable with her standing over me - seeming closer than she actually is. Maybe she notices the flash of panic in my eyes as her voice softens the tiniest bit - almost inaudibly. 

“OK, If you turn right outside the gym and follow the hall down there's a football field on the other side of the building where no-one really hangs out over lunch.” 

“Fine. Thanks.” 

Why the fuck did I thank her? I swing my legs around in order to stand, and pull my bag over one shoulder, letting my hair fall into my eyes as I leave the gym. Just before I’m out of earshot her voice fills the room once more. 

“Nice Docs.”

I think I smile for a second before realising that I don’t do that anymore, though I can’t stop my stomach from twisting again, dammit. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I have four out of six classes with Denning. Who, according to the roll, is called Carol. On my second day of school, Carol's eyes make contact with mine in PE when the teacher is screaming at me for not bringing gear. Instead of acknowledging the red, overly furious teacher, I lock eyes with Carol. She doesn’t squint or frown - she just stares back and tilts her head to the side.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

On my third day of school I can feel her eyes burning into my back in English class, then Chemistry. Throughout the day I sneak careful glances in her direction, and every time she’s staring unapologetically in my direction. I can’t pick the expression on her face, and I don’t know whether it makes me uncomfortable, uneasy, or excited. I do know that if she ever got bored and stopped watching I’d be annoyingly disappointed. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

On my fourth day of school I have art for the first time. I sit at the back of the class - behind everyone else. We’re meant to be sketching fruit or wine glasses or some shit, and I can see everyone's upright sketch-pads from my position. By the end of the class Carol has drawn the old art teacher in a kind of cartoonish comic strip - drunk, and I think hitting on the Deputy Principal. I notice my smile too late again. The tutor yells at her in front of the class for a decent ten minutes. She clenches her jaw and focuses her eyes on the back wall. They meet mine once, and she winks. Butterflies. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

There is a weekend after my fourth day of school. I busy myself over the two days cleaning as much dust out of Grandads house as possible. I tried to read but I couldn’t focus. It started to fucking piss me off that I was getting restless to go back to school again. I missed the feeling of seeing Carol. 

On my fifth day of school Carol turns up to English class late with a dark bruise on her cheek. She doesn’t look at the teacher, but just slips uncharacteristically silently to an empty desk at the back of the class, directly behind mine. I can’t feel her eyes burning into my back. But halfway through class a crumpled up piece of paper lands on my desk, thrown from behind me. I glance towards the teacher - too busy chatting up one of the cheerleader girls at the front of the class. The paper is slightly warm. I unfold it slowly - careful not to rip the edges. 

_ Meet me outside on the football stands at lunch Dollface.  _

I flip the paper over - she’s written it on the back of one of the shitty school maps, and has circled a mini picture of the football stand in red felt pen. I want to turn around - try to suss out whether or not she’s pulling my leg, decided that she wants to pay me back for scaring away her customers on day one. Carol Denning intrigues me but no way in hell do I trust her. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

My last class before lunch is physics - which I don’t have with Carol. I don’t know whether to be nervous or excited when the bell screeches through the speakers - marking the end of the period. For some reason I make my way to the football stand. 

She’s already sitting in the stands when I reach the football field - leaning back against them. The stands are on the other side of the field, meaning I have to cross the wide grassy area before I can join her. Which means she can watch me walking. Suddenly I’m not sure how to walk properly. 

_ I made sure to ditch class well before the bell rang so I could get to the stands first. Shit I’m actually nervous. What if she decides not to come. I don’t care. I don’t really care. Even though I don't care, my chest still clenches when she appears at the far end of the field.  _

_ She’s wearing jeans and her docs. I don’t know if she realises how powerfully she walks - as if the ground could open up swallow everyone on the planet but she’d just keep fuckin walking. I get to watch her cross the field towards me. I never know what to make of her expression when she looks at me.  _

She sits with her legs spread apart and her elbows leaning back against the stand tier behind her. Her jaw bone moves beneath the skin - always clenching her teeth, almost subconsciously I think. I clench my jaw without thinking. 

_ ‘Whenever she sees me she clenches her jaw. I’d call her out for fucking imitating me but I don’t think she knows she’s doing it. It’s kinda cute.’ _

I don’t hesitate - just climb halfway up the stands to sit next to her. I don’t need her thinking I’m scared. 

“Hey.”

She sounds so casual - as if we’ve been meeting here every lunch since primary school. 

“Hey.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a cigarette, which she lights, taking a long drag. She holds the smoke in for a second before releasing it into the air. It should make me feel sick, but instead I close my eyes and feel almost safe. 

“Want one?” 

“No.”

She laughs - not humorously, but with an undertone of sarcasm. 

“Ohhhh yeah - ‘ _ I don’t do that _ ’ right? Why not? And don’t give me that cancer stick bullshit.” 

I’m not sure what to say.

“I used to. Mum used to get high all the time.”

She looks at me side-ways with raised eyebrows, expecting more. I don’t know why I give her more - I don’t usually talk about this. 

“She’s not around anymore to tell me about it.” 

Carols lip twitches sideways.

“Oh - hey, sorry.”

“Nah it’s OK. I was too young to know what being high was - I just thought she was happy.”

Carol doesn’t say anything but it’s OK. Her cheeks hollow inwards for a second, her lips pinch together and her head nods slightly. 

I stopped talking to my foster parents about Mum cause every time I brought it up they would look at me pitifully. Carol doesn’t. She just processes and moves on. The silence feels nice. Silence always means me by myself, my mind spinning out of control. This silence feels peaceful. 

“So, your new into town right? Where are you staying?”

“I’m living with my Grandad over by the orchards.”

“Shit Dollface that’s, like an hour away from here.” Her eyes light up for an instant, “Have you got a car?”

“I wish. I have to walk into town everyday.”

Her forehead wrinkles in disappointment.

“Shit - good for you.” 

She takes another drag from her smoke and pushes her glasses up her nose with a knuckle. When she inhales the smoke her cheeks pull inwards, and the dark bruise on her face hollows out and shines in the sun. She doesn’t seem to notice it. 

Her fingers are long and slender, and I can make out the lines of veins running just under her pale skin. She wears multiple rings on each hand. The cigarette hangs loosely from between her middle and ring fingers. She catches me staring at her hand and raises her eyebrows. Her lips curl into a controlled smirk and she releases a stream of smoke from her lungs. She can hold it in there for an impressive amount of time. 

“You like staring at me huh Doll-face?” 

Shit, I can feel the blush invade my stupid cheeks. 

“Hey never mind. I like staring at you too.”

_ This girl actually fucking came to the football stands. She sat down next to me like nothing was wrong - like she actually didn’t give a shit about being associated with the ‘middle’ Denning sister. It feels weird, but also natural. She stares out over the football field in a dreamy way, with her pale hair dancing across her face in the wind. She is the most goddamn gorgeous person I've every seen - and I get to stare at gymnasts whenever fucking Debbie has a gym meet.  _

_ She has really full lips. I take another drag - my fucked up cheek sending spikes of pain across my face - and blow the stream out in her direction, disrupting her contemplative gaze. Her eyes squint and she flaps her hand in front of her face to part the smoke as she coughs. After a few seconds her lips peel back into a grin. _

“Fuck you Carol!!!” My eyes start to water against me will. Dammit “I can’t breathe, idiot!” 

Carol starts laughing and leans back onto the stand so she’s lying down. I can’t see her face anymore - hidden behind her raised knees - but her slender hand falls limp over the edge of the seat, smoke billowing around it. 

Her laugh is far more feminine the demeanour she portrays. 

“Come on _ Princess _ it’s not that bad.”

She’s still chuckling. Minutes later she tilts her head to the side to look at me - eyes peeking out from behind her bent legs. 

“Hey what’s your name anyway Princess?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Any comments are always really appreciated (even if my all-over-the-place occasionally forgets to respond)!


	12. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of new inmates arrive at Litchfield - one of which Cass strikes up a friendship with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Present day Carol again. I have to apologise for the chopping and changing I'm doing with the timeline!!!
> 
> This is a longer chapter, as I wanted to try one with a mix of both Carol and Cass's POV. In case your confused - italics (for the most part) is Carol's POV ;)

Chapter 12

Yesterday I’d been eating breakfast at my usual position at Carols table, when she walked up behind me and placed a soft hand on my neck. When she sat down next to me she’d drawn the hand down my back to wrap an arm around my waist, before leaning over to kiss my cheek. The touch only lasted a second - there wasn’t a huge deal of obvious affection in the gesture, more an air of possessiveness - before she pulled away again, but it was long enough for people to notice. Warmth had spread throughout my body. That was Carols way of establishing our relationship. I knew that I needed to act casual in order to maintain Carol’s atmosphere of control, but I couldn’t help but glance up at Badison to smirk at the vexed look of defeat that crossed her face. I’d thrown her a wink before she turn away in shock. 

I hadn’t realised how nervous I’d been that she was holding back in any relationship - that she wasn’t tying herself down so that if she needed a quick out, it would be easy. When her lips brush my cheek for the fraction of a second for the first time in the view of the other inmates, doubt I didn’t know was their fell away. 

  
  


_ Honest to God, some of my older top dogs seem to be under the impression that this Cass thing isn’t permanent. After nearly 30 odd years in this shit-hole I’ve never done the ‘Prison Daddy’ thing, so you’d think that the one time I start to get closer to someone inmates would fucking catch on - I thought I raised my girls with some brains. Apparently not, because people aren’t stepping around Cass as they should be - there’s not enough respect. The latest rumour that's come to my attention that she’s been lined up to take the blame for the next one of Badisons childish stunts. If these bitches think for one second that she’s an expendable resource, they better have no doubt in their mind that they don’t get my protection for a second longer - they can become pray to fucking Barb for all I care. What if it gets to the point where, Jesus Fuck, they decide to line her up to suck the dick of the next guard Badison needs a favour from.  _

_ I push up from the bottom bunk of our cell and stride outside. Girls part subtly, giving me access to the front of the breakfast tray queue. That's what I’m talking about - these girls, the everyday ones who just live out their sentences, don’t give me any jip. It’s once they get access to the higher ranks that they start to think they wield more power than realistic. I’ll have to have a chat with some of them before it looks like my grip is slipping.  _

_ My girl is already seated in her position next to mine. As I pass her I rest a hand at the nap of her neck. Easing down into my seat I let the hand drop down around her waist, before leaning over to press my lips into her cheek for a millisecond. No emotion makes its way into my expression, and I pull back to focus on the sludge that is today's breakfast. If that doesn’t establish this relationship then I’m gonna have to arrange for some transfers to replace these fuckers with new, sharper girls.  _

_ Plus, the last few weeks have been tiring - hiding the relationship and refraining from intimacy until we’re locked inside our cells at night. I don’t have to hide shit from these girls and if they don’t like that they can go fucking fend for themselves.  _

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Just after midday today we get an arrival of about ten new inmates, or ‘cookies’ as they seem to refer to them at litchfield. I’m sitting at the back of the ‘rec’ area reading a copy of  _ Golden Dragon  _ by Thomas Harris. The prison would never let in a book this violent into the compound, but Carol cashed in some favours and presented it to me a few nights ago, mumbling “Needed to get you an actual book.” The original cover has been replaced with the cover of some business and marketing guide. 

The newbies clutch their few belongings to their chests, eyes either nervously darting around the room or fixated on the floor. Only two of them seem fairly confidant, their stances proud and defiant. That will either be beaten out of them fast, or Carol will decide their worth the trouble and indoctrinate them into her posse. My eyes flick over to Carol - playing cards with three other women in the middle of the room. She glances up at the new cookies, tilting her head to the side in the same manner as she always does when making decisions, forming opinions. I imagine her eyes burning into each girl in turn, sussing them out, narrowing when the two more confident girls don’t shrink back into themselves immediately - a big mistake which they will come to regret fairly soon. Carol focuses back on the cards in her hand, not giving the newbies another glance. But I can almost hear her brain ticking. 

Looking back at the new arrivals, I find one of them staring at me. She’s got long dark hair and a tattoo peeking over the collar of her orange jumpsuit. I realise I haven’t really smiled at another inmate - aside from Carol - since I arrived at Litchfield. So I curl the corners of my lips up  _ slightly.  _ After a second she smiles back. And it’s nice. Nice to have another human being acknowledge my existence in a non threatening or scared way. One of the other girls notices the silent communication and offers a smile my way too. Shit. My eyes lock onto hers and the upturned corners of my mouth come down into a hard stare. I don’t need to be making friends. Don’t trust anyone in prison, establish yourself as dominant early on or your screwed. I internally kick myself for my moment of weakness, and turn my eyes back to my book - to the world of Dr Hannibal Lecter, the safety of the charismatic, evil intelligence of Hannibal the cannibal.  _ “The tragedy is not to die, but be wasted.” _

About half an hour later I notice the prolonged presence of another person close by. I gradually raising my head from the pages of my book - the cookie from earlier with the tats. She’s standing nervously a few feet away. She tries to smile but it looks pained. 

“What?”

She bites her lip. Did she think I was just going to invite her over to chat? Jeez. 

“Hi… I’m Payton.”

I raise me eyes at her, but other than that give no indication of response. She pauses for a few seconds before continuing. 

“I was wondering if…” She doesn’t know what the 'if' is. She  _ must  _ have thought I’d just invite her to chat. I can see her mind buzzing behind her eyes, looking for an excuse. 

“...If you could tell me how to get books to read in here.”

Not believable but she has guts for talking to someone not wearing orange before she’s even been locked up an hour. My lips purse as I decide how to handle this. I don’t need a new cookie latching onto me - I have my own shit to deal with. But it felt really nice to actually look across a room and share a smile with someone. 

“Look I get that you get the upper hand in this situation. I’ve always been drawn to the quiet bookworm types, but if you want me to piss off just say so before I walk myself further into trouble.” 

She smirks slightly and I allow my own lips to twitch because she looks so comical. After a few seconds of thought I jerk my head to the side - indicating to the seat beside me - and she lets out an inaudible sigh of relief and slides onto the bench. 

“So whatcha readin?”

“Golden Dragon.”

“No Shit!! I love that series. Isn’t Lecter the most intriguing character ever written? Do they really let you read stuff like that here?!”

I huff a silent chuckle and smile at her. Maybe I could be nice to one person. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_ Eleven girls now stand near the entrance of the showers - the nervous atmosphere they emit almost pisses me off. I stay seated on my bench, facing away from them for a few minutes to let the seriousness of this particular meeting sink in. When someone coughs I rise upwards abruptly and turn to face the huddle of girls trying to hide their cowering stances at the end of the room.  _

_ “So. I wonder if any of you know why you’re here?” _

_ A few seconds go by and no one answers.  _

_ “Not a rhetorical question girls.” _

_ They shuffle their feet and look towards the floor. So no one wants to say anything. I raise my voice from quietly threatening to commanding. _

_ “You are all HERE, now, because I think a few of us are getting a bit sloppy. And by us, of course I mean you.”  _

_ They squirm under my gaze, and their fear is exhilarating. ‘ _

_ “I've heard rumours, because girls I hear everything, of people starting harmless and unneeded squabbles, not following through with some exchanges between guards, even fucking misuse of contraband. If you girls aren’t up to the tasks you used to be I can so easily replace you. “ _

_ One or two of the girls - including Badison - take a breathe as if their about to protest but cut themselves off when I raise my eyebrows in their direction.  _

_ “Really? Do you disagree? So now your not happy with the leadership?” _

_ Badison mumbles something under her breath.  _

_ “Sorry what was that Madison? Didn’t quite catch it.” _

_ She grits her teeth before repeating herself. _

_ “I wasn’t going to say anything Carol.” _

_ I take a few steps forward. _

_ “Are you sure cause you looked pretty defiant to me. I fucking killed for this position ‘Badison’. You have no idea how lucky you are to be so near the top - the privileges you get. You want to make the calls, then fucking take me down. But I don’t see any of you having the guts or the resources to pull that shit off, so for now STEP IT UP.” _

_ I’m interrupted by the sounds of footfalls closing in on the bathroom, the clink of Hellman's key in the lock, the scream of the door being dragged shut again. Munoz strides in, speaking as she enters.  _

_ “Hey Carol - is this going to take long cause I want dibs on some of the new shampoo in commissary before it runs out.” _

_ Her eyes widen a little when she absorbs the atmosphere. Fucking bitch was late. Pursing my lips, I lunge forward and close a hand around her throat - pushing her back into a far tiled wall.  _

_ “Fuck Munoz are you actually late? Who in gods name do you think you are?” _

_ I turn towards the other girls, hand still closed around the neck of the inmate pushed terrified into the wall. _

_ “See this is what I’m talking about - there is no ‘Carol is this gonna take long’. No. You girls have free run of this whole goddamn block until I ask the occasional task of you, and when that happens I say jump and you say ‘Yes Carol, how fucking high?’ Does that make sense.” _

_ Straight away I get muffled affirmations. That’s fucking better. _

_ “OK” _

_ I turn back towards Munoz, reaching under my waistband to reveal a shiv, and bring it up to graze against her neck. She whimpers.  _

_ “So, if you so much as squeak at me again without my permission you’re out hun, on bad terms.”  _

_ I press the shiv into her sternum, just enough to draw beads of blood, and drag it across her upper chest as I continue to speak.  _

_ “And if you buy any of the new hair products from commissary I’m retracting your share of contraband profits.” _

_ Her eyes are wide and somehow shaking. She starts to nod but stops immediately when the shiv digs slightly deeper into her skin. I release my grip on her neck and turn towards the group of girls by the door while she draws in a satisfyingly ragged breath.  _

_ “Don’t get fucking comfortable. Everyone is expendable. Leave.”  _

_ They turn tail, trying and failing to walk casually out of the bathroom. _

_ “Oh and just before you leave - Edevane is mine, get it? Anyone fucking touches her and their as good as dead.” _

_ When I stride out into the main prison a few minutes later, my girl is sitting at the far end of the room chatting with one of the new cookies. I can’t help but frown, and something bitter pangs in my chest. _

_ …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  _

Carol seems tense tonight. She isn’t as chatty (albeit sarcastically) as she usually is, and her face is fixed in a constant frown - as if under strain. 

“Who was the cookie you were talking with today?” 

“Payton Caarma. She’s really great - super into literature. You won’t have to listen to me jabber about Shakespeare anymore! 

Don’t worry about looking weak by associating with the new girls - she’s shy in a confronting way if that makes sense, and she understands the whole food-chain thing. ”

She nods - unsmiling. She must be sapped of energy. She's had multiple ties to the outside bringing in contraband recently (phones, drugs, smokes, occasionally some alcohol), which is great for C-block business but hard for her to maintain. That’s partly why I’m hoping to build someone form of 'friendship' with Payton - I don’t want to get in Carols face anymore than I have to.

When we curl up in bed after lights out Carol insists for the first time to wrap her arms around me - to be the ‘big spoon’. Her arms snake tightly around my waist and her head falls into the crook of my neck. 

“Carol are you OK?”

Her head nods silently. 

“Is everything OK with your pack? You mentioned something about straightening them out or some shit. Did that happen?” 

She takes a deep breath before answering.

“Yip. Did it today. They’ll behave.”

I giggle at the confidence of her answer and she finally relaxes. A few minutes go by.

“You’re mine right?”

“Of course Carol. I’m always all yours.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

_ I’m sitting in my usual spot playing bridge - which isn’t going as well as it usually does for me. I’m distracted. It’s been a week since the group of new cookies were inducted into my block. They changed into their blue uniforms this morning. I haven’t found any of them particularly useful - one or two have potential but they’ll work their way up the ranks if they have ambition. But fuck, I have a burning hatred for Payton Caarma. This past week my girl has become more and more involved with her. Every time I’m near, Caarma will go all submissive - which is meant to be the whole fucking point of being Queen Bitch, but for some annoying reason it just makes me feel like the bad guy. Which is exactly what I am. But not to my girl. For some amazing reason she's always seen something in me that I can’t figure out, but I’m scared this Caarma bitch is revealing to her the version of me that everyone else sees.  _ _ Except I’m not scared. I discarded that emotion long ago.  _

_ For the first few nights I wrapped her in my arms as if to inform the universe thats' she’s fucking MINE, disrupting our normal pattern, but now I doubt if she wants me to. Jealousy is a real bitch.  _

_ “OK LADIES, LINE UP FOR YARD TIME.”  _

_ Dropping my cards face down onto the table and pushing my stool back as I stand, I leave the game without a word to saunter my way outside.  _

_ I’m leaning against the wire fence at the end of the yard when Cass appears near the back of the pack of women piling outside. She scans the yard until her eyes find mine, and almost skips in my direction. She’s shining. _

_ “Carol!” _

_ She presses a small kiss on my cheek and rolls around to lean against the fence beside me - suddenly looked sullen and foreboding. I fucking adore how quickly she can turn on the deadly ice-queen facade.  _

_ “Hey baby girl. Did you find it?” _

_ I’d asked her to pick up a pack of cigarettes stashed in the walls of one of the shower cubicles this morning - my usual runner got caught up in one of the pointless brawls that occurred before I put a stop to the increasing sloppiness of my C-block lackeys. The incidents haven't been a problem since, but my runner’s still locked up in solitary for god knows how long.  _

_ Cass nods slightly and her hand brushes against mine, slipping me the box, which I push up into the sleeve of my jumper with my middle finger.  _

_ “Nice work Princess. I might have to hire you permanently.”  _

_ “If I go down for crime in prison it will be for taking out a bitch and delivering you her skull, not playing pass the parcel with a pack of smokes.” _

_ …………………………………………... _

“Well if then I ever need someone assassinated I’ll hook you up.”

“As you wish.”

Carol rumbles a throaty chuckle and rests her head back against the fence for a moment. She turns and is about to say something when a few of her lackeys close in on our position hesitantly - attracting her attention. 

“Hey sorry Carol - do you have a second to talk?”

Her pack has been so polite since she knocked them around in the showers a week back. She doesn’t give vocal affirmation but closes her eyes and nods once. They start to relay some message about a fault in one of the outside contacts bringing in phones. My heart sinks. I’m just getting in her way again. When I look around the yard I spot Payton leaning against the wall on the other side of the yard, hands buried deep in her pockets. I push off the wall and walk towards her - Carol doesn’t need to be focusing on me if she has business to attend to. 

“Hey Cassidy.”

I nod at Payton and almost throw myself against the wall next to her. 

“You all good?”

I huff.

“Yeah. Carol’s just busy with work again. She’s really starting to pull away.”

“And you’re not gonna try push back?” 

“Ha - no fucking way. I’m just going to hope it blows over soon.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. She should be putting more effort into a relationship with you. Ever heard of a work and life  _ balance. _ ”

………………………………………………

_ I don’t really feel like talking business right now but if there’s anything I’ve learnt after all these years it’s that you don’t let a problem simmer - you fucking fix it asap. It’s just a matter of finding another source to bring phone in - which is never hard. But part-way through sorting it all out Cass pushes off our fence and walks away, my gaze follows her to where Caarma is positioned at the other end of the yard. I have to grit my teeth to refrain from cursing. Once Cass leaves, Badison and a few of her puppies swarm over and position themselves around me. They stand there as always, looking menacing and mean, but all I can see is my girl leaning against the wall far away, with someone who’s not me. Just before Hellman calls us back inside the Caarma girl says something and my girls face lights up, laughing. Caarma is gazing at her with doey fucking eyes. No goddamn way. That’s fucking it - i want my girl back. Inmates hustle inside and I murmur something to Badison, who walks over to Hellman to relay my request. I start to storm towards the door as Badison sidles up next to me - no doubt overjoyed to be given a task to lap up.  _

_ “He said he’ll cover for ya - just don’t get her sent to medical cause their full at the moment.” _

_ I grunt in reply and push ahead through the crowd of girls swarming inside. Part way through the hallway I catch up to Caarma, and pace behind her. We reach a fork in the hall on the way back to the block and I take the opportunity to grab her arm and pull her down the empty passageway. She has the common sense not to cry out when she sees me. I drag her round a corner before pushing her back against the wall.  _

_ “Stay away from her.”  _

_ It’s not very strong but they’re the only words my mind can form right away. She looks at me, seeming confused. Fuck that, she knows exactly what she’s doing.  _

_ “Look I don’t know, no, I don’t fucking CARE who you are, but you can just go ahead and leave Edevane alone.” _

_ She stares at me wide eyed for a second. _

_ “Carol I don’t know what your thinking but I’m not trying to undermine you or anything. Cass needs a friend.” _

_ Ohhh wow she goddamn didn’t just say that to my face. I slam my wrist into her throat, causing her to hunch over and gag. I bend down and whisper menacingly in her ear.  _

_ “I really don’t want to fucking hear it. Stay away from Cass. I don’t want you talking to her anymore got it? Do you understand?” _

_ She nods, her eyes watering.  _

_ “Good. Hellman will escort you back once you’ve cleaned up.” _

_ I turn on my heal and make my way make to my block, nodding at Hellman to indicate Caarma’s whereabouts on the way.  _

_ Caarma doesn’t talk to my girl for the rest of the day.  _

_ ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… _

Payton avoided me all day after yard time. I’ve replayed our conversation over in my head hundreds of times but I don’t know what I said that scared her off. I feel flat. I’ve never needed friends - and I don’t need one now, but it’s been nice to relax into another human contact for just a few days. Carol walks into the cell and a guard locks the door behind her. 

She places a kiss on my forehead and starts to change out of her uniform. Carol will have a solution.

“Payton’s avoiding me. I found one person to talk to and I don’t know why their pulling away. Do you know if any of your girls roughed her up some time today?”

Carol doesn’t look me in the eye, and doesn’t answer, but she bits her lower lip between her teeth. 

So she knows something. 

“Carol you know what happened don’t you.” 

She turns to look at me, her teeth clenching together - resulting in the jawbone moving visibly underneath the skin of her cheek. When she speak though her voice is casual. 

“I had a word with her after yard time.”

I didn’t expect that.

“About what?”

“I don’t want her messing with you anymore.” 

I didn’t expect that either. 

“I’m sorry you said messing with me? She doesn’t  _ mess with me  _ Carol she’s my  _ friend.  _ I don’t need many - just  _ one -  _ and still you seem to want to control that? _ ” _

_ “ _ A friend who seems to be trying to get awfully close to you. You don't  _ see  _ the way she looks at you.”

“Are you seriously jealous? Carol what the FUCK! That’s not fair - you don’t get to act on every spark of emotion just because you have everyone kissing your boot and you DON’T get to make decisions like that for me. You may be the big bitch in this block Carol, but I am my own person - there should be two halves to this goddamn relationship.”

I can’t believe she did that. I’ve been doing this partially for  _ her,  _ and what the fuck is she getting worked up about - I don’t trust Payton, I don’t reveal important information to her - she keeps me company and I keep  _ Carol’s  _ minions from tearing her apart like every other new cookie.

Something cold flashes through Carols eyes and her fists clench into balls. 

“I goddamn can if your not more careful with the people you’re hanging out with. People in prison are fucked - everyone is going to betray you at some point.”

“Well then Carol I guess that includes you. How about I leave YOU before you decide to stab me in the fucking back!”

Ohhhh shit. Those words didn’t run through my head before I said them. 

Carol looks stunned. She lowers down onto the edge of the bunk and leans her head into her hands. Fuck. 

“Carol, shit I didn’t mean that.”

She just shakes her head. My heart feels like I just tore apart the stitching. I sink down to the floor and tentatively place a hand on her knee - which tenses. 

“I will never mean that. I just… your business stuff has been so inflated recently and I didn’t want to get in your way. I thought maybe if I had someone else to vent to then you wouldn’t get distracted.”

When her face lifts from her slender hands I’m not sure what to expect - I’m met by her hard, detached expression.

“Bullshit Cass. I wanted you standing  _ with me _ in the yard today. I thought you had my back but next thing I turn around and your mouthing off with someone who disagrees with the mere notion of me. How is that not fucking distracting?”

God. She wanted to do this together. I can’t seem to decide whether to to feel warmth that she was willing to sacrifice a fraction of power in order to work beside me, or pained that the realisation that I had left her valuable. And hurting. If I dare say that Carol Denning can hurt. 

“Jesus you actually think I  _ wanted  _ you to piss off. Fuck, when I squeezed your waist last week I was sending a message to the other inmates - that they need to respect you now - I didn’t realise  _ you  _ weren’t going to pick up the damn social cue.” 

I feel awful. Carol doesn't like to talk about her emotions openly so I’ve learnt to read between the lines whenever I can. But I didn’t see this - the rejection she would have felt when I walked away too many times this week. 

“I’m so sorry - I thought… You actually want to do this  _ with  _ me?”

She widens her eyes and nods at me with an exasperated expression. 

“Still?”

“Fuck yes baby girl.”

She leans down to place her palm against the back of my neck, this time pulling me towards her, bringing my lips to hers.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

That night Carol turns to face the wall when we slide under the covers - allowing me to wrap my arms around her waist again. 

“If I’m getting involved with your prison gang bullshit you have to get it into your thick head that I get to make my own decisions. Payton is my friend. Leave her alone.”

She grunts out a disappointed grumble. 

“What if she makes a move?”

“If those intentions have even crossed her mind - which I highly doubt - then I’ll just have to figure out how to let her down easy.” 

“Because your mine.”

“Because you own me absolutely and completely.”

I pull her closer against me and she allows the back of her head to lean into my collar bone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you guys enjoyed. Shout out to K for the inspiration!
> 
> :)


	13. Dad's Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after chapter 11 - young Carol ;)

_ “Carol Denning don’t you dare leave the damn room when I’m talking to you. You have a goddamn responsibility to uphold as a member of this family and your doing a pretty shitty job of it. Do you want your sister to fail? DO YOU?” _

_ I take my hand off the door handle and turn around to face him. Dad’s cheeks have turned a furious shade of red and he has sweat droplets appearing on his forehead. I tilt my chin up and cross my arms in defiance. Holding in tears causes my eyes to burn, and blur the figure of the raging man in front of me. Where’s fucking Barb when I need someone to share the blame with. It’s not fucking fare - she goddamn earns money too but I don’t see my shitty parents trying to pockets hers.  _

_ “Debbie gets every spare penny this freaking house brings in. This is MY money that I earn. If she wants to take extra dance classes she can fucking get herself a job.” _

_ Dad pinches his lips together and growls. He starts to take a lunge towards me and as much as I despise myself for doing it, I can’t help but recoil slightly. He stops inches away from me.  _

_ “Jesus Carol her dance is her career - an actual career. If you’d decided to do anything goddamn useful with your life maybe you wouldn't be stuck as a fucking waitress.” _

_ I see red. I can’t do anything to hold back my scream of frustration, of resentment, but he cuts me off - clamping his rough hand around my throat.  _

_ “Are you FUCKING stupid? You want the neighbours calling the cops?”  _

_ He leans in towards me until I can see the blemishes on his ugly red flesh.  _

_ “Shut up and get this into your head; your sister is very close to a scholarship which will be her biggest accomplishment yet - in order for that to happen we need to pull together some extra cash for classes. If you have a problem with that we can always find the cash somewhere else - take you out of art class at school for example, those required ‘donations’ are pathetic.” _

_ “You can’t fucking do that!! It’s only $30 the whole year for art supplies - you can’t take away the only good thing at that shithole! You’ve...”  _

_ Shit. His grip tightening around my throat cuts me off - as well as my breath.  _

_ “Have a little empathy for someone other than yourself Carol - you’re sister has a lot of potential but we need this in order for her to reach it. What are you going to do with the money anyway - what are you actually doing that might require dosh huh?” _

_ I can’t answer. I haven’t been able to breath for what seems like forever. When my vision gets blurry I try to focus on the sharpness of his fingers digging into my skin. He must realise his grip's cutting of my life support, as his hand pulls away suddenly when I don’t answer. As much as I desperately need oxygen, I keep my breaths controlled. When I speak my voice sounds weaker than I feel. It makes me burn. _

_ “That little shit’s not getting my savings. I earned it. It’s mine.” _

_ He grabs me by the wrist and drags me upstairs, slamming the door behind me.  _

_ I let out another outraged scream. The raspy, pathetic noise that escapes my damaged throat only angers me further and I scream louder. Debbie's most recent trophy stands on my desk from when mum forgot to remove it after using the light through my window to take a photo of the small, golden gymnast. It stands next to my sketch of the football stands, of my Princess's hair blowing in the wind. The sketches are brushed to the side so as not to be included in the photo. Fuck it. The cold metal trophy is heavy in my hands, less heavy after I use every ounce of anger I have to snap the head off the miniature figures head.  _

_ ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… _

Carol is daunting and independent and unwavering. All this I knew on day one - when she stood in the middle of a dodge-ball game, when she towered above me on the benches on the far end of the gym, radiating her calm, calculated energy. 

What I didn’t realise straight away is that she's also powerful, vulnerable and bitter. That she's erratic - her emotions uncontrolled and various. That she's sarcastic in her humour, delighted by little, seemingly insignificant moments, and distances herself from pain - both emotional and physical. This is what I’ve learned after spending a few weeks with her. I feel like I know more about Carol Denning than anyone else. 

Something that I did know on day one, and that I discover more every second, is that I really, really like her. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Grandad never uses the old phone in his kitchen, so I figured out how to wire it up in my bedroom. Since then Carol calls me most nights. I had to call the first time - I don’t think she’s she kind of person who wants to be seen as needy. Now though the phone buzzes every night at about 9:30 and her voice sounds on the other end - albeit nervously, even the ringing sound the phone makes before I answer sounds kinda doubtful. She didn’t call last night for the first time in a week. I tried not to feel too disappointed but I couldn’t help the itching feeling in my stomach. It’s also slightly annoying that my emotions have become so controlled my a single individual in such a short period of time. 

It’s been two weeks since I sat with her on the football stands, and every lunch after she’s been waiting for me there - somehow managing to escape class right on the bell to beat me each time. Though I don’t think I’d put it past her to be leaving early, or skipping classes altogether. I’m giddy. Carol oozes a certain reserved confidence, but I think she fears being rejected. And yet she shows no signs of shying away. And I almost can’t believe it cause no one has ever made me feel like I do when Carol looks at me. Like I want to float and hum and die. So I can’t help but feel frightened that she’ll suddenly decide that I’m not worth it and pull away. 

She always sits leaning back, legs spread apart comfortably, her chin tilted slightly as if to say ‘fuck off’. Often we sit in comfortable silence, but just as often we talk - I wouldn’t say chat cause it’s not that bullshit gossiping that every other girl in school seems to be intent on, as if it was the substance they needed to survive. If I ever say something remotely witty one side of her lip curls up into an amused smirk. Every few minutes she brushes her huge glasses further up her nose, but while the action makes every other four-eyed geek in class look even nerdier, it makes her look threatening. In school it’s as if I’ve been swallowed up by her shield of intimidation - people shy away from me, the scatty kids bite their lips when I stare in their direction, the rebels hold my gaze in respect. I revel in it.

But everyday I’ve had to relearn how to walk towards her, across the field to the football stands, as she stares at me. So I think today I’ll skip the last 20 minutes of physics in order to get to the stands before her - watch her attempt to cross the field under my gaze - not that I could imagine her walking with anything less than swagger. 

The clock in physics today ticks past slower than fucking ever. As soon as it hits 12:30 I raise my hand, signalling to the tutor for the bathroom, and walk out. I don’t think he cares that I’ve slung my bag over my back - indicating I won’t return anytime soon. Most teachers here seem bored out of their minds - as if they’d give anything for every single student to bail on class just so they could down multiple cups of coffee in peace. 

Carol’s not sitting on the stands... I beat her. As I cross the field - this time walking perfectly normally - I have to suppress the urge to glance behind me; I’d bet anything she’s arrived just after me and is now sneaking along behind. When I take my seat halfway up the stands to look out over the field she’s nowhere to be seen. I lean back against the stand level behind me, pulling out a book of poetry from English class. Carol sometimes pulls out a sketch pad after stubbing out her cigarettes on the bench beside her. Her drawings are crude and cartoonish, but I’ve caught glimpses of a few graceful ones - with sweeping lines and realistic design. But only ever a glimpse - she doesn’t like me to see those ones - as if she’d reveal a more vulnerable side of herself. 

My eyes can’t focus on the words, and constantly flick away to catch Carol for when she appears on the other side of the field. Every time she’s not there the anticipation doubles, until it feels like my stomach’s both dropped far down below me into the ground, and has also jerked upwards. 

And then the bell goes, signifying the official lunch break. And Carol still hasn’t arrived. I tuck my book away - I can’t read at all anymore. 

Half an hour later Carol still isn’t here, and it starts raining. I stay out here on the football stands until the bell once again blares. And only now, utterly soaked and fucking cold, do I descend the stands and walk across the field. My feet sink ever so slightly into the field, now turning into mud. I don’t go to class, but make my way through the now recognisable corridors to the bathroom. In the mirror my wet hair is a darkened shade of blond. It hangs sleek yet straggely over my shoulders. I can’t figure out how to feel. Rain drips from my nose. This water used to be up in the sky, condensed into cloud. 

I could so easily let myself feel frustrated, defeated, like someone just punched me in the chest. But that would be over dramatic. So I just feel disappointed. 

And also worried. Carol skipped school once before to go do something - she didn’t say what - but it meant she couldn’t meet me at the stands at lunch, that I wouldn’t see her in class. But she called me the night before. She told me to bring a good book instead. But she didn’t call me about this - she kept me in the dark. 

Over the last week the bruise on her cheek turned from black to purple to pale yellow. And she's never once mentioned it. Carol doesn’t talk to me about her home, about her life after school, so while it’s likely my mind is making up dramatic conclusions, I can’t help but decide that she only wouldn’t tell me if someone else had actually done it to her. And if they were willing to attempt to break her jaw, what else would they be willing to do. Then there is of course the likelihood that she just had enough of me, that she decided that I’m not worth it anymore and she doesn’t want to meet at the football stands again. 

I’m going to walk home early - I don’t feel like carrying on with school today. I walk past her 5th period class on the way out, looking through the long rectangular window in the door. She’s not there. 

I pass through the big metal gates that mark the entry of the school to start walking home. The walk takes nearly an hour, but my mind has fallen into a habit of zoning out of reality until I reach the broken down fence of Grandad's house. The first few days my docs rubbed the skin of my heels, and I had to wipe blood off the inside of the boots in the evening. Then they blistered and scabbed over, and don’t bother my anymore. There’s a big willow tree, like the one in Grandad's garden, just down the road from the school entrance that I pass twice everyday - once on the way to school, once on the way back. 

Today there’s a silhouette leaning against it. As I close in the figure pushes of the tree trunk and walks towards me before stopping just under the edge of the tree’s shadow. The figure is wearing large glasses and a flannel shirt. Carol. 

At first I want to laugh and run up to her. But she doesn’t move. So I stop a few paces away from her. The corner of one lip turns up a little. 

“Whatcha doing Princess, schools not out yet?”

Her voice is huskier than I remember - as if her throat is trying, but failing, to shred apart the words before they leave her mouth. I ignore her question - I think it was rhetorical anyway. 

“I missed you at lunch today.” 

“Yeah sorry - I had a thing.” She’s not going to talk about the emotion behind her eyes when she mentions the thing. 

“Did you have a book?”

“I mean, that collection of poems from English class.”

She wrinkles her nose in an expression of disgust. I continue. 

“But it was destroyed. When it got wet in the rain. When I was waiting for you in the football stands. Mr Baileys gonna be really pissed.”

“Oh shit. Hey I’m sorry baby girl - I just… I couldn’t turn up today.”

She looks genuinely upset. As genuinely upset as Carol Denning ever looks. She clenches her jaw. I continue on my long way home, walking past her. Maybe I’m pissed she didn’t feel the need to call last night, tell me not to get excited about nothing. If I am pissed  that’s pathetic - I should trust that she couldn’t. I was worried - I thought something happened, but nothing did. She’s here. 

But when I brush past her, she captures my wrist with her fingers, holding me back. 

“You shouldn’t go home tonight. There’s this area just outside town where we could hang out or something. Or we could go to the diner I work at - sometimes I can get shit free.”

“Carol I can’t - Grandad would be really worried and I gotta get home.”

I try to keep walking but her grip on my arm doesn’t loosen. I turn to face her. 

“Look I’m really fucking sorry I didn’t turn up today. Can’t we hang out now. Please.” 

The look that her eyes are trying to mask is frantic. She’s also never said please. 

“What am I gonna do about Grandad?”

She pauses. 

“We could call him from my house. Dad’s left town for the weekend and Barb's spending the night sucking her boyfriend off somewhere tonight so we could take the car somewhere.”

I hesitate. 

“Fine.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… 

_ I locate Dad’s car keys from his ‘hiding spot’ taped to the underside of the table in the hallway - he fucking thinks he smarter than me. I jam them into the car and rev the engine while Cass calls home from the kitchen phone.  _

_ I don’t really know what to do. I just didn’t want to have to be alone. I could be - I’ve never had a problem with staying clear of other people's shit - but I’m gonna drive a **girl** round in dad’s car instead. Homophobic bastard has it coming if I crash his precious baby. And Cass calms me down. _

_ I couldn’t bring myself to move from the fucking floor all morning. At lunch I finally jumped out the window and began walking. Now I’m kinda regretting the decision that lead me to walk to school - to where I would meet up with her - cause I have no idea what my moods gonna do tonight.  _

_ The sound of the door closing drags my attention away from the satisfying hum of the car engine. She looks almost nervous sliding into the car seat beside me.  _

_ “You can drive right?”  _

_ I pull a jawbreaker out of my pocket and tuck it into my left cheek, keeping my eyes on the driveway - not making contact with hers.  _

_ “So where do you wanna go?” _

_ ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….... _

She can drive - But it’s fucking scary. She speeds to the point where it’s a wonder the car doesn’t lift up off the road and become airborne. And she sounds the engine every few seconds - every time an evil smirk graces her features. At first my stomach drops in fright. But then my hair flies back and the wind rushes against my face - making my eyes squint. And her hair - dancing in the wind - looks as if she’s surrounded by flames. The more distance we cover from her house, the more determined her eyes become, the brighter her giggles when we nearly run over the occasional kid on their way home from school, when a middle aged woman screams at us to ‘goodness slow down.’ Carol doesn’t though. She knows exactly what she’s doing - she’s in control. Maybe today, right now, would be an OK place to crash and die. I feel like this would be a good last chapter to live. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She parks the car - weirdly perfectly - on the curb down an old alleyway in between a grocers and some ancient, broken down apartment block. 

“This is so dodgy Carol - how pissed would your Dad be if his car got busted?” 

She shrugs, rolling a jawbreaker from cheek to cheek. 

“That man can go fuck himself.”

I raise my eyebrows at her - shaking my head incredulously.

“Don’t worry about it Princess - I can handle him. Plus, no-ones fucking stealing my car.” 

“It’s not your car.”

“And they don’t know that. Don’t tell them.” 

She winks at me and grabs my hand - pulling me into the grocer’s store. I huff out a casual disapproving laugh while my heart stops - she’s never held my hand before. Her fingers feel slender and cool, the hard metal rings contrasting with her rough skin. When we enter the store she drops my hand and shoves hers deep into her pockets. 

“This is a nice place Carol - I feel real special you bringing me here.”

She turns around to stick her tongue out in my direction, walking backwards through the isles. 

“This is a detour - ran out of smokes.”

I roll me eyes. Heaven forbid. 

She stops at the end of the isle, pulls a pack off the shelves and tucks it into her pocket. 

“Want anything?”

I shake my head, but snag a pack of lemonheads off the shelf as we exit the isle. I catch Carols chuckle - almost inaudible. The shop's empty - except for the checkout guy reading a mag behind his till. I think it’s a porno. He doesn't look up as we pass - but just before Carol pushes the door open his voice pierces behind us. 

“Hey - empty your pockets girls. I’ve had one too many incident recently.” 

Carol nudges the door open with her shoulder, and I follow behind. The man at the counter stands up - his chair flying out behind him, and starts to make his way towards us. 

“I said EMPTY your pockets.” 

I can just make out Carol's smirk before she grabs my hand again and dashes out of the store, the man lunging towards us when her movement confirms his suspicions. I start to turn towards the alley with our parked car waiting to whisk us away, but Carol's iron grip on my arm pulls me in the opposite direction. We fly down the street, Carol’s laugh falling into the wind, until the man gives up a few hundred meters outside his store. Her laughter is raspy and is diminished into small coughs as we speed down the street. We slow to a walk - and glancing over my shoulder I can make out the man bent over puffing, hands on his knees. 

“Shit.”

  
  
  


………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Carol leads me up to a children's playground in the middle of a massive green field. She lets go of my hand to jump up and latch onto the monkey bars, before swinging her body up onto a wooden platform. I swing up - slightly nervous of slipping - after her. She’s leaning against the end of the platform, head cocked to the side to regard me as I slide over beside her. She wrinkles her nose - adjusting her glasses - and reaches into the pockets of her flannel shirt. They must be mens cause they never stick pockets in the girls shirts - as if we didn’t have the need to pull out a smoke or a knife or some shit, which are the only thing guys use them for. 

Carol pulls out two lollipops. And offers me one. 

“Candy?”

I take it from her suspiciously and unwrap the scrappy paper covering the sweet. 

“It’s only the smokes that you don’t like right? Cannabis candies are OK?”

“Shit Carol seriously? How the hell did you get your hands on them?” 

“The guy I deal for had to cut my pay this week for some reason - so I got some of these fuckers as extra.” 

She laughs with delight at the prospect and pops one into her mouth - I follow suit. It doesn’t taste too bad. We’ve both finished them in under five minutes. I wonder how long edibles take to enter the system. 

Carol leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. When her head falls back, her shirt inches down slightly towards her collarbone, revealing bruises peering out just above the collar. I jerk upright. 

“Shoot - Carol what’s this?!” 

I reach over to pull her shirt farther down her chest, resisting the attempts of her hands to pull mine away. Shock gives me the strength to hold her down when I uncover fingerprint bruises etched into her skin. My touch lightens on her neck, fingers fluttering over the darkened skin. Dark like the fading bruise on her cheek. 

“Fuck. Jesus. Someone did this to you didn’t they? Who was it?” 

She scowls and pulls back, this time effectively pushing away my fingers and tugging the neck of her shirt up again to cover the marks. 

“Dad wasn’t to happy with me this morning.” 

She pauses as if that’s all the explanation I’m going to get. I raise my eyebrows at her expectantly.

“Look I can deal with it OK. I know how to get myself out if he gets really bad.”

I notice my jaw clenching and bite my lip instead. Carol huffs in annoyance, when she speaks she sounds cold. 

“Look Princess, I don’t need your sympathy or your pity. I appreciate your  _ company _ but if your scared off by reality then I can fucking go back to figuring things out solo.”

“Carol.” 

I can’t say anything else. So I pinch my lips and nod slowly like she did when she found out how mum died. She needs someone who can process and move on. Someone who’s stomach didn’t just rip in half when she realised what Carol goes home to after school. 

“In Physics today Jason Berg set fire to one of his books. The tips of some girls hair caught and she made a huge fuss about how she wasn’t gonna be able to flirt with the football team.”

This pleases the psychopathic streak in Carol - she smirks like the devil. The throaty hum that she elicits makes my insides churn, but I try my best not to let it show. 

My eyes drop to the lollipop stick lying beside me. Then I focus my gaze on my hand lying next to it. If I stare at it for long enough it glows. I don’t know whether to be scared or amused. 

“Carol?”

“What.”

“Why did you have weed?”

“I told you - the guy who pays me for…”

I shake my head and look at her intently. She has the most amazing eyes. 

“No! I mean why did you have it in your pocket for now?”

She hesitates and pushed her glasses up off her nose, to rest in her hair. She looks so much more in control than I feel. 

_ “I needed the high, to do this.”  _

Carol leans forward, seemingly in slow motion, and then her lips are on mine. Oh my god. Her lips on mine. They’re the softest skin I’ve ever felt, and they’re moving. Against mine. One of her hands rests on my thigh, while the other comes up to the back of my neck. I think my hand is in her hair. 

My mind is racing, trying to focus on the moment, feel every effect of it, yet simultaneously trying to hold every memory in my head, save it for later, 

So when she pulls away I’m not ready. 

“Am I aloud to do that?” 

Oh my god she’s asking whether  _ she  _ can kiss  _ me.  _ The question sounds like a challenge though - am I willing to involve myself in the chaos that is Carol Denning. 

“Why the fuck did you _stop_ doing that?”

Her lopsided, perfectly controlled smirk. She leans in again, this time both hands cupping my cheeks. And this time when her lips find mine I don't let them go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to write because I wasn't sure what was happening; I made it up as I went - so hopefully it makes some sense!
> 
> If anyone wants anything particular to happen with the story line let me know in the comments and I'll give it a go. 
> 
> :)


	14. Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I have 4 short chapters in a row ready to post...

Carol sits in the middle of the room around a table with three other woman - playing cards of course. Her poker face is almost impenetrable - cold and menacing - but I can find the cracks. The slight twitch of her lower tip, the smallest narrowing of her eyes. The game is not going her way. 

I shift my balance from leaning against the doorway of our cell, to glide through the room towards her. From behind, I can see the cards of the three women Carol’s playing with. Imprint them into my memory.   
I’ve noticed Carol never sits fully on any seat - she positions herself on the inner edge, her legs still splayed apart slightly like she used to sit in high-school, but she never leans back anymore. She’s alert, prepared. That does however allow me to straddle the back edge of her stool. She doesn’t look up from her cards as I sit, her back pressed against me, but I can feel her body lean into the closeness. This is the power I have now - I can do this, amidst a room full of inmates; Carol still maintains her stone cold formidable charisma and I get to sit with my arms wrapped around her waist, her body pressed up against mine, and take in the looks of all those either brave or stupid enough to allow jealousy to cross their expressions. 

I rest one of my hands on her thigh and convey my message, one finger tracing out the cards, beginning with the hand of the woman on her right - K, I, N, G / S, P, A, D, E, S - 8 / H, E, A, R, T, S - 7 / D, I, A, M, O, N, D, S. I can feel the vibrations of her chuckle when she realises what I’m doing. Her head moves sideways slightly as she turns to mutter near my ear. 

“I’m not a fucking cheater Princess. I’d say this is foul play.”

“Bullshit.”

I can almost feel the next words that leave her lips before they do so. 

“Bulltrue.”

“It’s not cheating if you don’t state that it’s against the rules before you start. And if you didn’t do exactly that I’d simply call it expending your resources.”

I visualise her lips pursing ever so slightly as she considers my perspective, the slight twitch around the corners of her eyes when she envisions the satisfaction of the sneaky win. 

“Just this once.”

I bury my evil smirk into her shoulder as I outline the other players cards on the inside of her right thigh. Her hair smells of smoke and way too much hair product and something else uniquely Carol - a deep, sharp spice. Like leather in Arabia. At one point she leans her head down to rest on mine - for only a fraction of a second before she moves away again - but for a moment I can feel her jaw clenching through the skin of her cheek.   
She hums briefly, almost silently, before she wins. 

Carol reveals her winning hand, the cards dropping definitely onto the table, eliciting agitated grumbles from the other women around her. Her head tilts the side - almost daring them to complain.

“I believe I’ve won ladies.” 

I flick my eyes up to absorb their response. Unwillingly, the one opposite her - Silka - glances around before slipping a magazine towards Carol, no doubt hiding a multitude of sins; whatever contraband this game was bet on. The others reluctantly follow suit. Carols hand slips beneath the pages and her closed fist retracts - tucking the contents into the pocket of her shirt. Once she pushes the mags back to Silka and the other two, the women they leave - dismissed by a subtle single of Carols I haven’t quite caught onto yet. 

“Nicely done Carol.” 

She huffs and leans back on the stool slightly, causing me to lose my balance. I slide off the stool and saunter round to sit opposite her. Her slender fingers shuffle the pack of cards in her hand, expertly cutting the deck in two and rifling them back into one pile before dealing each of us a hand. I lose myself in the movements of her fingers.

“Your start.” 

Her sarcastic drawl interrupts my stare. I pick up the hand of cards that lies in front of me - they’re absolute shit but she doesn’t need to know that. Her eyes scan each of her cards and I can see the light behind them buzzing as she computes the possibilities and patterns that emerge after playing the same card games for decades. Her lips press together slightly. Head still tilted towards the cards in her hand, her eyes flick up to mine. 

“Did you collect the supply of phones this morning?”

“Yip. Hellman passed them on after breakfast.” 

“And?”

“They’re stashed behind the loose brick in Brock's floor.”

She raises her eyebrows and her eyes flick back to her hand. 

“And?”

“And… You’re fucking welcome. I told you I wasn’t gonna run after a bunch of petty contraband shit if we joined forces yet every time you ask I goddamn cave.” 

She smirks - she is completely aware of the seductive power she has over me. She turns over a King and a Jack from the cards in the middle of the table. Doesn’t do my shitty hand much good, but by the slight flutter of her eyelids I can tell she’s pleased. Dammit.  
She tilts her head to the side, still waiting on a reply. I give in with a resounding sigh.

“And, we already have more potential buyers than we have phones - don’t worry, there'll be a profit.”

“Good girl.”

“Hrph.” 

She places her cards on the table face up with a snap - straight. Way fucking better than my pair of Kings. She leans her hands on the table and stands, wincing slightly as she does, something I’ve started to find amusing - that she seems to ache when she stands yet just a few days ago I witnessed her darting across a hallway to lift one of the newest annoying cookies up a wall with one hand around her throat. I’m guessing the aches and pains are all for show - Carol’s smart. 

She sidles round the table and leans down to kiss me as she brushes past. 

“Looks like I won Baby girl.” 

She pats me on the cheek and walks off while I disgruntledly shuffle the cards and lay out a game of solitaire. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**D-Block, Barbara’s POV**

“Hey hurry up I ain’t go all day.”

Daddy runs her hand through her hair and slides over to sit on my bunk next to me. Her hair reminds me of a fucking porcupine. 

“Whats up Barb? You seem tense, what can I do?”

“Tense? Yes I’m fucking tense, Carol and her C-block cunts are suckin’ up business. I thought you had this under control Daddy. A little birdy told me yesterday that a few of our customers have been turning to fucking C-block for drugs.” 

Daddy looks like she wants to deny it but she can’t - just what I was hoping she wouldn’t do. 

“I made a fucking huge mistake letting Edevane slip through my fingers. More like you made a huge fucking mistake not shoving a shiv through her throat. Since when is running someone through a problem for your girls?”

“Shit I know Barb, I’ve talked to them - it’s not happening again.”

“Well too bad Daddy - ever since Carol and that bitch have been ‘reunited’ C-block's thrived and we’ve done the fucking opposite. I don’t care what it takes Daddy - I want Edevane dead. DEAD this time; not in medical... in the ground.”

“Sure Barb - and anything for you. I promise.”

I pat her on the cheek and smile. Carol scares her girls shitless - yes it gets the job done most of the time, but I treat my girls well. And that’s why I’m gonna fucking win. 

“OK Daddy. Good girl.”

She winks and turns to swagger out of the room. 

“Oh and Daddy.”

She turns to gaze at me, one eyebrow cocked slightly. 

“Edevane's not stupid - she knows what the fuck shes doing so this has gotta come from nowhere OK. You get one shot.”

Daddy nods thoughtfully and disappears around the doorway. 

I’m gonna fucking crush that bitch.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

_I touch her cheek - something in between a stroke and triumphant pat - as I sidle past. She can help me cheat all she wants but if she thinks she can actually beat me she has another thing coming._

_I make my way to the salon, nodding at Hellman on the way out and pausing briefly to look back at my girl as he unlocks the door, allowing me out of the main compound. Golden hair pulled back in a twist as always, full lips, slight wrinkles breaking her forehead as she scowls at the cards laying out on the table in front of her. _  
_Forbidden warmth gathers in my chest. Fucking feelings. _

_I walk beside Hellman as we make our way to the salon. Never walk behind a guard - you establish a position of inferiority. When we reach our destination, I don’t make my way over to my usual chair. The twins lack customers. Gail looks up from where she sits, polishing a pair of scissors - looking fucking psychopathic. She registers our presence, puts down her scissors, and exits the room - followed by her sister. Hellman kneels down by a vent in the wall on one side of the room, pulling out an object wrapped in rough white fabric. _

_“This is expensive shit Denning. Don’t get caught with it.”_

_I raise my eyebrow at him and hold out a hand. _

_“Don’t look for it then.”_

_“Are you telling me to stop harassing inmates? Careful.”_

_“Just one of them.”_

_He passes me the small parcel, which I tuck down my shirt with hesitation. I don’t like to talk to Hellman. He gets shit done but whenever he opens his fucking mouth I get pissed. _

_“I think your getting soft Denning. This cost you a bit of money - real gold isn’t goddamn cheap. The more money you waste the less I’m getting, and that isn’t how this alliance works.”_

_We exit the salon and start to make our way back towards the main block. Out of the corner of my eye the twins slip back into their domain. _

_“In the last six months business has fucking tripled. That's the cause of her. We can afford to throw away a couple hundred.”_

_He scowls but doesn’t push the matter. _

_Back in my cell I unwrap the cloth, revealing a simple solid gold bracelet. For my girl. _


	15. Circle

I turn my head to look at Carol. Her fiery hair is spread out on the grass, consuming it. Her hands are splayed out and tapping the ground on either side of her in time to the tune playing in her head. One of her hands folds up to push her glasses up her nose with a knuckle. She sits up suddenly - a movement that would have made me jump a year ago, but the kind of quick, unexpected motions I’ve come to expect from her erratic personality.  
She starts playing with the grass. 

“You didn’t come to school today.”

To my surprise her tone doesn’t sound accusatory - just curious. 

“Nah. Grandad fell.” 

She nods slowly and doesn’t push the matter further. 

She sits in silence for a few minutes, while I lie back in the grass staring up at the sky. Her back is turned slightly away, but she swings around after a few minutes and falls back on her side to lie down beside me. 

“So today in art we drew circles.”

I raise my eyebrows at her and smirk. Her expression remains serious. My smirk fades - the depth behind her eyes scares me more than usual. 

“Which I thought was stupid. But Mr Bright said we had to incorporate circles into an image that represents timelessness.”

“And what did you draw?”

Her cold gaze breaks as she grins proudly.

“I didn’t. I made a paper plane and threw it into the back of that dipshit Jack Blaine's head. I’m meant to be in detention.” 

My smirk returns at her delighted laugh. She holds out her hand, revealing a badly woven strand of grass. She pulls my left wrist out from under my head and ties the strand around it, making a bracelet. 

“But this is a circle. And it means that whatever happens next, you’re fucking perfect and timeless to me OK?” 

Her eyes are serious again. I’m taken aback - Carol doesn’t like cheesy moments, but in this instant in time she radiates intensity.

“What’s going to happen next Carol?”

“I don’t know. But whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. Because you made everything better.”

She leans forward to press her lips to mine, her kiss a soft contrast to the usual rough desperate passion, before flopping back down on her back beside me. I lean into the earth and hold my wrist up, the woven grass tied around it. This means something important to Carol. 

“As much as I treasure this symbol of eternity, I bet you five bucks it rips before the end of the week.”

“Then one day Baby girl I’m gonna replace it with solid gold.”

I laugh at her optimism and wrap my arms around her waist, burying my head into her neck.


	16. Solitaire

Solitaire. I win again. After five rounds the triumph of beating myself has worn thin. Maybe Carol is ready for a rematch - I can still feel her smug pat on my cheek as she sidled away. I sweep the cards into a single pile and start shuffling. 

All of a sudden I feel someone's hand grip my shoulder. For a split second I lean into it, expecting Carol's husky voice to whisper some smug comment into my neck. But then I feel the hand pulling me backwards at the same time as a sharp pain buries itself deep into my lower back. Fuck. The pain is the most real thing I’ve ever felt - piercing and so deep. But I have no time to scream. I have to be quick… I twist, pulling out the shiv from deep in my back and swing around, ready to bury it into the throat of whichever bitch has decided to revolt. There are three of them. Shit. I only have a split second to process the fist swinging toward me, encasing a grey solid shape - a rock maybe?   
I duck, the hand missing me, and thrust forward with the shiv. One of the attackers cries out as the sharpened toothbrush disappears within their abdomen. 

And then the fist swings round again, colliding with my forehead. For a moment a dull ache spreads across my temple,


	17. Chapter 17

_A scream rings out from within the block. I tuck the gold bracelet into a pocket and push myself up from the mattress. A rising commotion fucking interrupts my train of thought as I near the cell door. Every goddamn inmate is buzzing. They have formed a ring of girls - standing around something? I frown - something happened. Badison is hovering at the edge of the ring of girls looking shocked. Her mouth hangs open in a silent cry. Jesus what on earth shut Badison up? Girls part for me, breaking the ring, which I never fully clear. Because my feet can’t move when I see the girl in the centre. _

_I was going to push everyone away. I was going to kneel down beside her. Hold her hand. Tell her to get the fuck up. But her eyes are staring up at nothing - empty. One thin line of blood lines her forehead, down over her lips, dripping off her neck. She lies in a pool. Once we'd lain down in the middle of the road after school. It was raining and her hair had become plastered over he lips when she laughed at the puddle of rainwater that gathered around her as she lay. But this growing puddle is crimson red. _

_Groan. Hand falls down onto a table to keep steady. Stomach pulls inwards in the most sickly sharp pain ever felt. Sounds condenses into white noise. _

_Guards start to pour into the room - always too fucking late, always after the damage has been done. They drag people backwards, shouting, and stand like a protective barrier around my girl. They don’t touch me. _

_When they take her away, even before they hook her up to their cold beeping machines, I can already hear the monotone hum of the red line - flat and dead. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmigod I'm going to regret this when I have inspiration for another chapter but this is somehow what happened to the story. Let me know what you think in the comments !


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